#the only way I’d be comfortable fr

[doctor-mccoys-sanity]

Someone be in a gay neurodivergent t4t relationship with me😭

[ellecdc]

can i formally request something? (i have no idea if you take smut requests so please ignore me if not😭) a barty x reader smut where everyone already thinks they’re together so they’re like 🤔?? maybe they’re onto something

and maybe if they try to tell people (read regulus) they’re just like -_-¿ this is new

and well done on your exams!! i’m sure you aced them

hahaha omg this is so Barty and reader coded fr. thanks for your request (I hope I did it justice)

Barty Crouch Jr x afab fem!reader who have sex for the first sodding time, Evan

CW: smut - like straight up porn people, p in v intercourse, pussy slapping cuz apparently I'm a freak, soft choking, a slap in the face if you squint, 18+

This conversation had been going on for so long that you were truly fighting the urge to throw your head back and let out a guttural scream out of pure frustration.

But Barty never fought his urges.

“For fuck’s sake!” He screeched. “How many sodding times do you need me to say it: we - are - not - to - geth - er!” He shouted at Evan, emphasising each syllable with a stomp of his foot. 

Evan smirked and shared a look with Dorcas before rolling his eyes.

“Sure. And what exactly is this?” He asked, gesturing with his book at your tangled forms.

Okay, so maybe you and Barty were physically affectionate with each other - but that didn’t mean anything.

“What?” Barty asked simply.

“The way you’re sitting, Junior.” Dorcas drawled in a bored tone.

You both looked at each other like you were only just now realising your proximity to each other. 

You were positioned on the cushion of the sofa between Barty’s thighs with his arms wrapped around you and his hands weaselled under your shirt and tucked under your breasts.

What?

It was for warmth; he has terrible circulation, you know.

“We always sit like this.” You replied.

Evan scoffed. “You always sit like you’re one sneeze away from having his dick slip inside of you?”

“Okay, you know what?” Barty said, slipping his hands out from your shirt and patting your thighs to say ‘get up’, and standing up behind you. “I didn’t come here to be spoken to like this, least of all by someone who has his head shoved so far up his arse that he could check for tonsillitis.”

Evan shut his book he’d been pretending to read up until that point causing Barty to screech and shout at you to ‘save yourself’ as the two of you took off in the direction of his dorm room. 

You were laughing and breathless by the time you made it into Barty’s room and he shut the door behind you, casting a locking charm for good measure should Evan come looking for retribution for the slander.

“Honestly, I think they’re just jealous.” You said breathlessly.

Barty nodded as he sucked in a few deep breaths himself. “I mean, it’s kind of sad he’s never had a best friend that he felt so comfortable with, you know?”

“Exactly!” 

“And I don’t know why everyone has to make it so sexual. Do you have great tits? Sure. But that’s not why I put my hands on them!”

“Of course.” You agreed readily. “And I mean, are we two of the hottest people to walk these fucking halls? Of course we are -”

“Absolutely.”

“- but that doesn’t mean we’re shagging!”

“Right!” Barty said with finality as he finally sat down on the chair at his desk. “I don’t know why they have to make everything so weird.”

“Me either.” You groaned as you fell backwards onto Barty’s bed and stared up at the green velvet bed curtains draped over the four poster bed. “They’re probably just jealous.” You repeated. “I mean, we would make a really hot couple; I’d want to be with us too.”

“You know, that’s exactly what I was just thinking.” Barty agreed quickly. “And if we were having sex, they’d bloody know it. It would be hot.”

“Gods, it really would be, wouldn't it?”

“Without a doubt; I’m great in bed, and you’re great at everything.” Barty said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You know what.” You said as you sat up to face Barty. “It would be hot. Great sex comes from trust-”

“Check.”

“- communication,”

“Check.”

“Familiarity,”

“Duh.”

“Confidence.”

“Obviously.”

“We’d be sodding lucky to be shagging each other!” You proclaimed.

“I agree!” He responded. 

You both stared at each other; breathing slightly laboured having gotten yourselves so worked up pleading your cases (to no one, seeing as you were both clearly on the same page).

“Huh.” Barty said finally, giving your body a once over. “You know, maybe it is weird we haven’t fucked before.”

“Yeah.”

Your eyes met his green ones that held an intensity you’d not seen from him before.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna fuck?”

“Yeah.”

And like a flip had been switched, the two of you were launching yourselves at each other. 

No time was spent savouring touches or testing waters. It was all teeth clashing, tongues dancing, heavy breathing, and tearing each other’s clothes off.

It felt somehow both forbidden and oh so right.

You’d truly never thought about Barty like this; you really were just that comfortable with one another.

But as you pulled his shirt over his head and started fussing with his belt, a fire roared to life inside you screaming we should have been doing this the whole bloody time. 

You nearly tripped over the waistband of your trousers as Barty backed the two of you towards his bed where he sat on the edge.

You broke apart for air as he moved his sinful mouth down the expanse of your torso and took to marking up your breasts.

“Salazar they’re even better like this.” He murmured to himself before taking one of your nipples in his mouth whilst he pinched the other.

You ran your finger through his hair, an action you'd done many times before, but never like this.

You pulled at it roughly and brought his lips back to yours as you pushed him to lay back on his bed so you could straddle him.

“Merlin, Y/N. No foreplay?” He chuckled breathlessly as you gave his cock a few strokes and whispered a lubrication charm.

“Next time.” You sighed as you lined him up with your entrance and slowly sank down onto his cock, causing the two of you to moan in unison.

“Next time, huh?” Barty teased as he smoothed his hands up and down your sides, allowing the two of you to adjust to the feeling of one another before you experimentally rolled your hips.

“What? Don’t you want to fuck me, Junior?” You taunted right back.

Barty thrusted his hips up roughly into yours, causing you to cry out and place your hands on his shoulders to stabilise yourself. “I think it’s very obvious I want to fuck you.”

“Yeah?” You whispered, bringing your mouth back to his and biting gently on his bottom lip.

“Yeah.”

You breathed a laugh out through your nose before you bit down harder.

“Then fuck me.”

And before you could tell which way was up, Barty had flipped the two of you over so he now hovered over top of you and had his hand wrapped around your neck.

“You want to be fucked, doll?” He groaned as he hooked one of your legs around his hip allowing himself that much deeper in you.

If there was one thing you could thank the fucked up breeding habits of Purebloods for, it was apparently the size of their cocks. 

“You want me to ruin you?” He continued as he added more pressure to your throat, still grinding into your now sopping cunt. “Make sure no other wizard is ever good enough for you?”

Your entire body felt like it was on fire; the feeling when you’re sitting on the poolside in the sun after a swim; the beads of water only make the sun’s rays feel that much warmer against your skin.

“Oi.” He demanded, giving your cheek a chastising tap. “You gonna be good for me?” He asked more seriously this time.

His beautiful green eyes were nearly fully eclipsed by his pupils as he continued moving in and out of you with what you realised now was a very controlled pace. But you were eager to see where he’d go from here.

“I’ll be good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.” He ordered.

“I’ll be good.”

“What was that?”

“I’ll be good, Barty.” You whined, pulling at his arms in an attempt to bring him closer.

“Who are you going to be good for?”

“You.”

“Yeah?”

You hummed in agreement as he hiked up your other leg and wrapped it around his hip.

“Tell me.”

“I’ll be good for you! Promise. I’ll be so good for you, please.”

Barty chuckled and let out a taunting cooing sound as he fell to his elbows and brought his face to yours.

“There’s no need to beg, sweets.”

And just like that, he was pulling away from you again.

Suddenly, his hands were on your hips and he lifted them into the air, holding them there as he began slamming into you. 

“Gonna be so fucking good for me, aren’t you angel?” He grunted.

You scrunched your eyes shut at the feeling of his throbbing cock pounding into you; adjusting his angle every few thrusts in search of something.

“I bet you’re a fucking screamer, huh? You always got so much to say babygirl; don’t go quiet on me now.”

His fingers dug further into the fat of your hips as he adjusted his grip on you, causing you to let out an embarrassing keening sound.

Apparently that was close, but not quite what Barty had been looking for.

“Close. How about we try…”

And he pulled out of you completely before landing a hard smack against your pussy, forcing a surprised scream to tear from your throat. 

“There’s the pretty sounds I was looking for.” He celebrated, rubbing placating circles on your clit before repositioning himself and sinking back into you. “Think you can keep that up for me, Princess?”

“Yes!” You cried quickly, grabbing helplessly at the bedding as he once again lifted your hips up into the air, finding that sweet spot inside you that he’d been in search of before his interruption.

He knew he found his mark when you let out another strangled sob.

“Alright pretty girl, there we go, huh? Does that feel good?”

You were babbling affirmatives nonsensically as he groaned at the sensation of your walls clenching around him; yesses and pleases spilling from your lips.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

“Please Barty.” You cried, reaching a hand up to his wrist.

He let your hips fall to the bed as he brought one thumb to your clit and his other hand took yours in his.

“What is it, princess? Hm?”

“Please.” You whined, and it sounded pathetic even in your own ears in your current state.

But Barty only tsked and pulled two of your fingers into his mouth which he began to suck.

You could feel the tension building in your core as he quickened his pace with his thumb and his hips before letting your fingers go with a pop.

“I’ll take care of your princess, you know that. When have I ever let you down?”

Never.

“Never.”

He smiled triumphantly down at you; and though his mouth was cocky, his eyes were sincere. 

“Exactly. I’m not about to start now, yeah?”

And suddenly his thumb was gone from your clit, your ankles were thrown over his shoulders and he was leaning his weight against the backs of your thighs as he began thrusting into you with an air of desperation.

“Atta girl; so good, huh? S’good.” He grunted as his thrusts became somewhat sloppy. “S’fuckin’ good for me. Perfect for me, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted with each thrust of his hips. “Please, oh gods, please, please Barty.”

“I know, I know.” He grunted, clearly as close to teetering over some sort of edge as you were. “I know, I feel it. You’re alright, yeah? Go on, sweets; I’ve got you.”

And his hands were holding onto your thighs for dear life and he was kissing at your knee like even that silly little part of you was something worthy of worship, and he did have you and he never let you down and he wasn’t going to start now and you saw stars as you finally fell over the edge.

The room fell quiet as Barty locked his lips on yours, and you realised you’d been screaming. 

His hips stuttered as he thrust into you once, twice, three times more before he followed you over the edge; letting your legs fall from his shoulders as he fell to his elbows on top of you and the two of you fought to catch your breath.

In complete contrast to the Barty who was only moments ago pounding mercilessly into you, he started placing, slow, lingering, gentle kisses over your face as his thumbs rubbed idly at your temples.

He pressed a kiss to your neck, your jaw, the tip of your nose, over your eyelids, your forehead, your ear.

You knew Barty could have a soft side, but you never imagined it so tender.

“I knew you’d be a screamer.” He whispered, breaking you out of the serene moment and surprising a bark of laughter from you, which caused both of you to groan in discomfort before Barty slowly pulled out of you. 

“Stay here, princess.” He instructed as he walked away from the bed and returned a few moments later with a warm cloth and one of his (read: your favourite of his) t-shirts.

You watched him carefully as he cleaned you up - and once again, what probably should have felt awkward or embarrassing felt nothing but natural as he doted on you. 

“Can you sit up?” He asked; not one hint of condescension in his tone as he held the neckhole of his shirt open for you to slip your head into.

As it poked through, he pressed a kiss to your lips before helping to thread your arms in.

“Is it safe to assume we’ll be doing that again?” You asked with a smirk, causing him to scoff dramatically. 

“We’ll be doing that the rest of our lives if I have anything to say about it.”

After a shower and a change into comfies, the two of you returned to the common room, and though Dorcas was long gone, Evan could be found where the two of you had left him, now in the company of Regulus. 

“Well boys.” Barty sang dramatically as he swung his legs over the back of the sofa and landed on the seat with a bounce. “We just fucked.”

You rolled your eyes at his blatant goading as you sat beside him.

“Yeah? And I had potions today; so what?” Regulus muttered without looking up from his novel.

“What do you mean so what? This was the first time!” Barty argued.

“This is new.” You insisted severely.

“You know, I always knew Barty was a liar; but I expected better from you, Y/N.”

Your mouth dropped open as Regulus and Evan stood up and walked away from the seating area.

What you didn’t see as they walked towards the Slytherin dungeons was Regulus passing Evan five Galleons for their bet on who could convince the two of you to finally get over your “just friends” bit.

[celestie0]

guys its seriously not the end of the world that ihm gojo has an ex wife like fr 😭 he’s a 34 y/o financially stable & attractive grown ass man, i’d be more concerned if he DIDNT have past serious relationships up to this point

some asks i’ve received ab it have been borderline really rude to me about my creative decision to give him the plotline of a past wife who he, yes, was very in love with (or else why tf would he marry her lmfao)

i have received asks of people saying they find it gross, they think that it’s “bullfuckery”, that they actively ignore that aspect of the fic because they disagree/dislike it (like ffs how rude to admit that to me lol), that they don’t think it makes sense for him to be with someone that isn’t reader, that he “loses aura points” for having an ex wife…etc

please think about how that feels to me, as an author, to have my creative decision constantly belittled, questioned, and made irrelevant like that…there are ACTUAL toxic shit you could call a character out for n i wouldnt be mad ab it bc, yknow, that’s warranted. BUT A GROWN MAN HAVING AN EX WIFE? 😭😭

😅 i only really speak up about things when it gets to being too much, and i’m now doing so bc i’ve probably received 15+ asks with these sorts of rhetoric so far and i’m getting kind of sick of it

if you think a 34 y/o man having a prior relationship is “gross” just because it wasn’t with YOU (aka the reader), then i feel like there’s a difference in maturity between you & i and i’d rather not interact w you on that regard

and i’m sorry to say this, but there will be a LOT of ihm gojo’s ex wife in future chapters. there will be an extensive backstory chapter of their marriage too, where i will not shy away from themes of love and sex between them even if it’s not “with the reader”…if you’re gonna feel some type of way about that, then ihm is not the story for you

i don’t resonate with that level of jealousy or possessiveness over a character, hence why i’m comfortable writing about it. if you’re not comfortable reading it, then you’re not going to enjoy what i have planned for ihm

and if you think your passive aggressive words will get me to change my mind about what i choose to do with the story, then you’re wrong

of COURSE he is going to end up with reader in the end, but that doesn’t discount the person that he was before he met her. i want him to stand in ihm as one of the main characters in his own right, n not just as the “love interest”

like idk i just feel awful bc it’s like every month i have to come on here and make some type of boundaries over these sorts of asks that i get n idk if it’s a me problem at this point lmfao?? but i just don’t understand the entitled and rude language that is often thrown my way w regards to my works 😅 but i can’t sit by and pretend like i’m ok with it hence why i’m speaking up and will continue to speak up if it teaches some of you about fanfic author/reader etiquette

as always ily to all my other readers obv this just applies to the rude few n not to all my other beautiful angels 😃😃 much love 💕 and i’m gonna take a bit of a break from here so hope you all have a nice week ahead of you

[lorelune]

dreamer's envy

|| dan heng x reader || E/18+ || first time, comfort, lore || wc: 13.4k  || ao3 ||

Dan Heng is haunted by the memories of a man he no longer is. You are all to willing to help him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: ahhh!!! beloved dh... df... yx... this fic is a bit of a love letter to reader insert character studies and ship fic. making my two faves kiss on the mouth fr. thank you so much to @yinyuedijun for beta reading along the way!! hope you enjoy 💗

CW: reader is referred to with they/them pronouns and afab anatomy, previous dan feng/yingxing, descriptions of gore, descriptions of intimacy issues, author-created lore (plot crafted prior to penacony release), interpretations of HCQ lore, multiple characters experiencing post-trauma

NOTE: this piece is written in two points of view. one is from dan heng’s perspective, where the “you” he is referring to, is you, as in the reader. the other perspective is second-person pov where the narrator ('you') is dan feng. in these portions, 'you' have a cock and the assorted anatomy. these portions are written in italicized text.

Your hands shake. Your thighs tremble. Yingxing lays between them, your cock nestled in his mouth. It’s not sizable enough to hit the back of his throat, but Yingxing, ever the sensitive man, still has tears pricking the corners of his eyes. You stifle a moan into your hand, hastily slapped over your mouth.

Yingxing will not have it.

A strong, calloused hand grabs your wrist and yanks it. He pins your hand by your side, intertwining your fingers. He pulls off your cock with spit-slick lips and smiles. 

“Beloved,” Yingxing speaks in a purr, soft and gentle and comforting against your ears. “You know I love to hear all of those sounds of yours. You’re not getting shy on me, are you?”

There’s a hint of mischief to his voice. You huff and kick at his back.

“Hurry up,” you snap at him. There's a bite to it; you mean there to be. Yingxing only looks amused by your tone— the only one on the entire Luofu who could possibly look joyful, when met with your distinct ire.

“Can’t I take my time?” Yingxing asks, licking from your balls, to base, to the head of your cock. You’re— wet. Leaking pre down your shaft. “May I undo you, my flower?”

“You’re an awful man. I will have you imprisoned.”

“You’d never.”

“You’re right, I’d do worse.” You have so many ideas brewing behind your eyes— ways to punish this wretched man for toying with you. Treating you so kindly and with such humor and wit. There is no one else like him— no one else in your many, lonely years who has lanced you in the way that Yingxing has. How treacherous of him, to steal your heart. 

“You’ll have to tell me all about the ways you’ll punish me,” Yingxing hums, pushing the tip of your cock against his lips. It’s obscene. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkle. “After you cum down my throat, though.”

Yingxing, that bastard of a man, takes you into his mouth against, bobbing his head, sucking and running the flat of his tongue over the bottom of your cock. It’s too much, all at once—

And how prettily you moan when you become undone (again) under this wonderful, awful man—

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng wakes up with such a start, he nearly vomits. He does dry heave, snatching the conveniently placed trash can nearby and dropping his head inside to sputter. Spit dribbles off his lips and falls in globs to the bottom of the basket.

He sets it aside and rubs the heels of his hands over his eyes.

Again.

Again, again, again— he has these dreams all too often. Of a life that is not his, of a lover that couldn’t possibly, ever be his. They’re visceral, vivid— as though Dan Heng is experiencing them in real time, and they’re not some awful figment that clings from a past life.

They plague him, simply. He hates every moment of them.

The pleasure of them feels poisonous. That man is not him. Yingxing— is not his. The body that writhes and gasps is not his own. He’s an onlooker, a distant stranger looking in on something intimate and dead. It’s torture, really, but Dan Heng is an expert is quiet endurance, so he copes. 

He stands, still wearing day clothes, and drags himself from his sleeping bag on the floor. His companions on the Astral Express all stated their initial concern with his choice of lodging and lack of a bed, but they’ve since calmed. Everyone on the Express has their quirks. It’s like how March sleep walks, Stelle occasionally glows from her chest, and you only sleep once every few weeks and never in your own room. Dan Heng enjoys his spot in the Archives due to the various motors and machinery that lay under the floor. It’s warm, far toastier than any other room, or bed for that matter. 

(He is not Dan Feng. However, Dan Heng cannot deny that his more draconic instincts are somewhat intact.)

Dan Heng throws on his slouchiest sweater, threadbare and worn, and wanders to the parlor car. An hour or so of pacing usually cures him of any antsiness, and he can nurse a cup of tea while he walks too.

This night, however, you sit in the parlor car as well. Dan Heng slows as he sees you.

You’re— an enigma to him really. Everyone on the express is a bit of a misfit, but you are a newer addition to the bunch, and he and the rest of the crew are still grappling with your oddities. 

Dan Heng has, since the moment he first met you, accepted he would never fully understand you. He made peace with it, moved on and has kept his distance except when necessary. It is better this way.

You’re staring, side-long, out of one of the wide windows of the car. Your chin is perched on your palm and your perpetually blood-shot eyes are half-lidded. Dark circles are punched beneath them. You look like shit. You always look like shit, and you have assured the crew that this is normal, despite March’s initial fretting. 

When you notice him staring, a kind smile curls on your lips and you wave, good-natured.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty. Are you doing alright?”

“I’m fine.” It’s not the first time you two have met like this. The Parlor Car is empty, except the two of you and the dimly glowing whale fixture that hangs from the ceiling. It feels familiar, much more comfortable than the... unwelcome familiarity of his own dreams. “I’m just fetching a cup of tea.”

“Ah, a night cap?” You hum, and crack your neck. “Sounds needed. That last dream of yours was wild.” 

Dan Heng frowns, “I’ve asked you before to quit that, please. It’s invasive.”

“I would if I could,” You shrug. “But, I can’t. Besides, your dreams are loud, Dan Heng. I’d be unable to ignore them even if I was at the back of the train.” 

“Can you at least not mention them?”

“I mean, I can not. But... they clearly upset you, don’t they?” You tilt your head, eyes soft. “Would you like to talk about them at all? I don’t mind listening.”

“They aren’t your concern.”

“I’m aware of that, but that doesn’t stop me from caring. I know they’re distressing.”

“You’re prying.”

“I’m asking, Dan Heng.” You sound a little desperate. Standing, you pass by him, in the direction of the passenger car. “You can say ‘no, my fellow Nameless, I would like you to never speak of me and my upsetting sex dreams,’ and I won’t ever mention them again. I don’t mean to be a thorn in your side, but the past is easier to bear in the present if you can lean on folks.”

Dan Heng is silent, stewing and stirring under his skin. 

By the time he has a reply formulated, you have left the parlor car. The only sign that you’d ever been there to begin with is a patterned knit blanket left where you were sitting. 

Dan Heng snatches it up before he can convince himself not to and returns to his room to add it to his ground-bound nest.

...

Welt had found you outside of a space station, idling around a refueling station. You’d been wearing a dirty utility jumpsuit with the emblem of some IPC-owned subsidiary screen-printed on the pocket. Your eyes had been glassy and far away. When Welt asked if you were alright, you had smiled and told him, “Actually, I’ve never been worse.”

The Express loves strays. It’s ultimately what he, Stelle, and March are. Welt to some extent as well, especially considering his several layers of mystery. Himeko has the disposition of a kind leader and the heart of a mother, and for all of Pom Pom’s fretting, they are always interested in a new face aboard the Astral Express, for however long they choose to be there.

It’s sensical that you were given a shower, a hot meal, and a room before you even fully understood what you were signing up for with the Express.

Dan Heng was, notably, wary of you. It was the way you looked at him after the first night you slept on the Express (one where he had predictably been plagued with images of a body that wasn’t really his being fucked and loved in a way Dan Heng couldn’t conceptualize his actual self receiving). There was clear concern etched in your expression, however you never voiced it. Not at first.

It was only after a few weeks that March pointed out you hadn’t slept since your arrival that you revealed your hand.

A bloodline blessed by the Aeon of Dreams, Sacha. 

Dan Heng had heard of the Aeon, distantly. A seldom-traveled path, one for those with imagination run wild and a penchant for long naps. There were whispers that the Aeon was asleep, constantly. Otherwise, dead. Regardless, you bore the Godbeing’s blessing in some way.

You revealed this during a routine coffee break, just before Welt, March and Stelle descending to a little sandy moon. Perched on a chair, legs curled over your chest, you’d laughed when March pointed out your lack of good sleeping practices.

“I don’t need to, so I tend not to. It’s a difficult habit to break.” 

You had explained to Dan Heng and Himeko that you and your kin, a race descended from a small planet from a dead solar system, all bear this blessing. No need for sleep and—

“I perceive the dreams of others.”

Dan Heng had questioned, immediately— “Perceive?”

“That’s the best way to put it.” You meet his eye and you look slack in your shoulders. Unbearably calm and tired. “What you dream, I experience along with you. The more I focus in, the more vivid it is.”

(Dan Heng is horrified and doesn’t speak to you for a week.)

After some significant, quiet panic, Dan Heng had politely asked you to not perceive his dreams if you could help it. 

You’d told him you’d do your best.

And Dan Heng— appreciates the effort. Even if it's clear it's not working. You are so often up when he rises for his customary tea and jaunt, and tend to prod him a little. At least stop him to chat for a moment or tea. You’ll sneak in a cheeky comment or two, usually, but they’re so quick Dan Heng can’t do much more than blush and stumble over his next sentence.

You look highly amused and soft, those nights.

You never ridicule him, which he appreciates. More often you look pleasantly neutral, as if trying to emulate the aura of a familiar house plant near a skittish black cat.

(Dan Heng knows he is the skittish black cat.)

It’s— too much really. Dan Heng would rather bear it alone, take his cup of tea and do his laps, but he also can’t find it in him to tell you off too harshly. You tend to favor the parlor car, anyway. You get lost in the stars and galaxies they traverse easily. It would feel cruel to ask you to sequester yourself to your room simply so Dan Heng can brood more effectively.

Dan Heng does not know what to do about his own haunting (arousing) dreams, nor does he know what to do with you and your unfazed smiles.

...

You straddle Yingxing’s lap, thighs tense as you roll your hips. Your lover’s length grinds inside of you, stroking something small and hot and so good you could get drunk on it. You chase the sensation, selfish. Your hands are braced behind you, on Yingxing’s thighs as he is sprawled below. 

His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a knotted mess. A hastily ripped piece of fabric binds Yingxing’s wrist together and secure to the stained wood of the bed frame.  You were kind enough to carefully pull out his favored hairpin (a gift, one you commissioned him to make... for himself. Without his knowledge. Yingxing was moderately huffy about it until you tucked it into his hair yourself.) and set it aside. 

Yingxing is not a weak man, but you are a Dragon, and therefore keeping him restrained and tethered is not difficult. Usually, you allow Yingxing the privilege of carving out your insides at his leisure and pace. There’s a sweet torture to it you have found yourself having grown fond of. 

There is no other soul, mortal or otherwise, short-lived or long-lived, that you would allow to exert such control over you. Yingxing is an exception for you in so many ways. How dear this (foolish) craftsman has become to you.

“B-Beloved,” Yingxing’s voice is tight, strained. There’s sweat beading on his temples. “Might I persuade you into moving?”

You hum. Your tail wraps around his leg, from ankle to thigh and squeezes. The feathered tail flicks at Yingxing’s tense muscle and he jolts under you. A glittering laugh leaks from the corner of your mouth.

“Persuade me then.”

“Y-You’re not making this easy, are you?”

“I told you I wouldn’t. And you still agreed.”

“I thought the great Yinyue Jun would grant me some mercy at least. Excuse my wishful thinking. I thought that my dearest husband would forgo being a brat for at least a single night—”

You scoff.

You roll your hips, slow and deliberate. Yingxing’s words are cut off, killed in his throat as his eyes roll back into his skull. Keeping your core tight, you bury his cock in your hole to the hilt. You’re flush together, panting. It’s a tight squeeze, it always is. But the slight burn is familiar and welcome as you throw your head back and moan.

The sound is sin. If any of the Preceptors knew what this man did to you, he’d be drowned in Scalegorge within the day. 

Yingxing curses in a tongue you don’t know— it’s his mother’s language, he once told you. He tries to buck up into your heat, but you hold him down and steady. Clicking your tongue and racking your nails down his chest. Thin welts rise in your wake. Yingxing lets loose a choked gasp as you slide down on his cock. The stretch is so, so good. You crave this ache. You fantasize about it when you surely shouldn’t. It haunts your—

Dreams?

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng wakes up so hard it physically hurts. He gasps, muffling a half-there sound into his pillow. It’s shameful. He feels out of his mind as he flips onto his stomach and ruts into his nest of blankets. The friction is dry, scratchy, and barely enough. However— the phantom sensations of a dead lover crawl over him. Nostalgic and tragic and nauseating.

He comes with a sob that he prays no one hears. He stains the front of his boxers as he grinds his oversensitive cock against the wet fabric. It’s too much. He’s too sensitive. It hurts, but Dan Heng doesn’t know what else to do.

He feels ashamed as he sits up and runs a hand over his face. 

It’s usually not this bad. Usually he can will away any arousal with logic. Reminding himself that the pleasant touch and face he remembers is long gone and was never his to have to begin with. Only on a few occasions has he woken up disoriented enough to forget himself to actually get off.

He needs to shower.

Dan Heng blearily leaves his room with his towel slung over his arm. The showers are on the other side of the passenger car. Dan Heng turns the spray on the highest heat, cooking himself as much as he can bear. There’s a latent energy in him that always swirls, begging him to push and pull the water around him, harness it for even a moment—

Before Dan Heng can entertain such things, he exits the spray, flushed bright red with his towel around his waist. 

As he exits the shower, he finds you. 

You’re perched one of the plush couches, tucked into a nook in the passenger car. Your signature blanket is not with you. You look— like shit. Dark circles stamped but your eyes look alight.

Dan Heng freezes as you notice him.

“... You alright?” You ask him.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure, bud?”

“Yes.”

“Uh-huh.”

”You’re patronizing me.”

You stumble, “I don’t— I don’t mean to. That was just—”

“Please do not—”

“A lot.”

Your cheeks are flushed as you rub at them. Your gaze flits up to his then averts to the floor. You look... shy. It’s an expression he’s never seen you wear before, even when you were pulled onto the express filthy and in a heavily patched jumpsuit. 

Something in Dan Heng’s chest squeezes. He doesn’t know what to say. He feels entirely too exposed. He’s not fully dry, and he can feel droplets of water dripping from his hair down to his shoulders. His throat bobs as he gulps you watch the movement with rapt attention. 

He coughs.

“I asked you to refrain from viewing my dreams.”

“That one was loud.” You frown. “Incredibly loud. Like banging pots and pans, fireworks and explosives kind of loud. I couldn’t have ignored it, even though I very much want to. I’d love to give you your privacy, Dan Heng, but sadly the intricacies of your mind happen to make your dreams essentially unignorable.”

“Must you comment on them?”

“... I heard you crying after.” Your expression looks uncharacteristically torn up. Your lackadaisical smile and humor are nowhere to be found. “I was worried.”

“I can assure you, I am fine. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I do, regardless. The whole Express does.”

“I appreciate it. Though, it’s unnecessary.”

“Of course. Sure. Because you’re the paramount example of ‘not needing care’.”

“I’m self-sufficient.” This time, he frowns.

“You are.” You stand up and walk toward him. “‘Sufficient’ implies adequacy, not prosperity.”

“What are you implying?”

Your hands ball into fists at your sides, “That you, Dan Heng, seem like you could use some help. I won’t pry at your past, I’m aware it’s not my place to do so— however routinely having uncomfortably vivid sex dreams about a man who you clearly have complex feelings about, probably isn’t good for you. There’s an inevitable amount of strain. One that I think that you’re ignoring.”

“What help do you think I need?” His voice remains level, but your proximity has him wriggling under his skin.

“... I— could be a decent listener. I have all the time in the world. I’m always around at night.” You struggle to meet his gaze, but after a moment, your usual, easy smile erupts on your face. “Or, would you prefer more... direct assistance? I could help with that too.”

“Speak plainly.”

“Was the last time you had sex with the man in your dreams?”

Dan Heng’s throat closes up. The cloudhymn that are under his skin thrum and encircle him, for just a moment. Your eyes widen at the colors and hum of it and jump back. You almost stumble. The surge of power and energy shakes the passenger car. The whale-shaped light fixtures dance above you. 

Dan Heng swallows.

“And if it was?”

You look at him, really look at him, and your eyes soften. Your center looks wide and vulnerable despite the churn in the air, “Then, do you think it could, perhaps, be helpful to add some more recent, pleasurable memories for your dreams to play with?”

Dan Heng flushes so quickly, he feels faint.

The instinctual cloudhymns around him die in an instant. He retreats, a firm grip remaining on the towel around his waist to keep it in place. He mumbles out a hasty ‘goodnight’. 

He is unsure if you hear him.

... 

In the days that follow, neither Dan Heng nor yourself, bring up your proposition. 

The next morning, you look expectedly exhausted, but do not prod or pry at him any further. You sit at the long table for breakfast and munch on a piece of bread and some jam while Himeko goes over your next destination. 

The few times you look at him, your smile is lazy and easy, however you turn away quickly. 

You continue to skillfully avoid him. 

Dan Heng— feels a bit bad about it. Maybe a lot. If he enters common spaces like the parlor car or dining car, you quickly leave after a peripheral greeting. You must be doing so as to not tip off the rest of the crew that there’s some amount of… tension between the two of you. Under different circumstances, Dan Heng would have appreciated the purposeful discretion, however something about it irks him. 

The Express’s next destination is a repurposed space station at the edge of a solar system. A false sun, powered by a Stellaron— something to that effect. Stelle’s bodily composition is of some intrigue to the scientists looking to craft a replacement, while other factions wish to harness the Stellaron more directly than a not-so-distant source of light and heat. 

Himeko’s engineering expertise is being requested, along with Welt’s understanding of Imaginary energy. March wants to go due to the complex system of bioluminescent algae that teems in the space station’s plentiful aquaponics infrastructure. (“It looks so pretty! I need photos!”)

There are very few reasons for Dan Heng to accompany them; the party’s already full. There are even fewer reasons for you to join, who, despite all of your assurances, looks particularly haggard and worse for wear. Both March and Himeko mother hen you into staying aboard the Express to keep Pom Pom company.

Dan Heng should make an excuse to leave as well. Something in his gut tells him it would be best to keep his distance from you.

(It would be easier that way.)

However, Dan Heng finds himself waving goodbye to his companions as they dock at the small port. Pom Pom has requested at least a single treat from their excursion while they wave exuberantly from his side. 

You stand on Pom Pom’s right, lazily waving as well. Your shoulders are slumped.

As Pom Pom aways to dust the fixtures in the parlor car, Dan Heng faces you and speaks without thinking.

”You should rest.”

You blink owlishly at him. “… That’s not necessary.” 

”You don’t look well.”

”You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”

”I am being serious.”

”So am I.” You roll your eyes and shrug. 

You attempt to walk away from him, but Dan Heng finds himself reaching out to grab your arm. His hand wraps around your forearm securely, firmly. 

You still, wide-eyed.

”You can sleep, can’t you?”

”… I mean, yes?” You frown, glancing at his hand then back to his face. 

“Would it help?”

”Help what?” 

Dan Heng deadpans. “You’re exhausted.”

”… Dearest Dan Heng, I am always in this state. I apologize if my withered countenance has caused you grief. I am fine.”

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grip, but he doesn’t let you go. Your frown deepens. 

“Being intentionally daft isn’t wise.”

You stare at him, “I’m not being ‘intentionally daft.’”

”I beg to differ.”

You mutter something in a tongue that Dan Heng doesn’t recognize. “What’s your deal? I apologize for getting into your business previously. I have been trying to give you ample space and shut out your dreams to the best of my ability. Is that not enough?”

”No.” No, no, no— that’s not really. It. Dan Heng isn’t sure what it is, but at this moment, his mood has little to do with your knowledge of his horrible, awful, persistent wet dreams, but something else. “I’m not upset at you for that.”

You stare and your hands ball into fists, “So, you’re really pestering me over my well-being?”

”Yes?”

”Aeons, Dan Heng.” You say his name in a croon and it makes him shudder. He wants to scream. “It really isn’t a big deal.”

”Is it straining you to not… perceive my dreams?”

Your expression goes blank. “I mean. Yes. But, it’s not a big deal—“

“You look awful.”

”You can’t have both.” You are clearly frustrated. Dan Heng’s grip is unrelenting. “I can’t— I can’t attempt to block out your silly sex dreams without a not-insignificant amount of effort. I’m either going to be very keyed into that pretty silver-haired man who you clearly wish was in your bed, or I’m going to look a bit more worse for wear. The latter, Dan Heng, does not bother me. Fretting over me isn’t going to make me less worn down.”

”And you just… don’t care that you’re tired?”

“I’m always tired.” You smile then, the same lazy, curling quirk of your lips that you so often wear, ever since the Express dragged you aboard from that rest stop. Dull-eyed and wearing a filthy utility jumpsuit. “I don’t want to cause you all any additional grief. I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”

Dan Heng doesn’t know what to say.

“... That isn’t your choice.” The words feel paltry, half-there.

You pull your arm from his grip, thumbing at the spot where he held you. Your soft day clothes have rumbled under his grip, “That’s hilarious, coming from you, Dan Heng.”

“This is different.”

“How so?” 

“Because—” Dan Heng clicks his tongue. Something— something simmers just under his chest. Something bigger than himself, salty like the sea and heavy like green stone that writhes as you stare him down. “Because my dreams are my business. The man— men— in my dreams are my ills to carry. They should not affect my present. You shouldn’t be affected by them.”

“Well, crazy, but I am—” You go nose-to-nose with him and huff. Dan Heng backs into a railing behind him, back curving. “Because I don’t like seeing you in pain—”

Something kicks Dan Heng’s shin and he hisses. You jump away from him with a stumble, looking down at a glowering Pom Pom. Their tail twitches.

“No fighting in my parlor car!” Pom Pom huffs. “Does Pom Pom need to get Miss Himeko’s ‘get along’ shirt?”

“That’s not necessary,” Dan Heng rushes to say.

You’re already walking away, out of the parlor car with a shake of your head and one last wistful look.

...

You tear your heart from your chest.

It is expectedly painful, even if you braced for it. Even if in your deepest meditations, you simulated the pain of such a loss with cloudhymn to prepare for this moment, on the off chance you would need to lose your heart from between your ribs and give it to your beloved. So few of Long’s scions retain the ability to rebirth with multiple hearts— only a handful of high elders, really. You can imagine what they will say about you, think about this act you’re committing.

Sin. And a painful one.

The blade in your hand clatters to the ground as you hold your heart in your own palm. It’s large— a dragon’s heart. It will not fit in the chest of a mortal. 

(But, you will make it fit.)

Yingxing is— is— he’s dead. He’s a corpse on the ground below you. One of his arms is missing, while the other is twisted at a most unnatural angle. His star silver hair is a tangled knot in the dirt, Yingxing’s favored hairpin shattered somewhere in the foreground. The color is no longer pure. It’s a dirty scarlet. A mix of your beloved’s blood and Shuhu’s. 

Yingxing’s eyes are half open and dull. Purple turned bruised-petal lilac. His lip is split and blood trickles from the corner of his lips,

This is not to say anything about his middle which is—

Not really there.

It makes inserting the heart easier. You think so anyway. Your hands shake (they never have before, not like this) and you cry (you have not cried like this before) as you shove the heart into Yingxing’s necrotic chest. You have to further break his ribs to shove your heart into him. Cloudhymn spins around you— a storm, a gale for you. It dulls the screams from your younger companion begging you to stop. A beast roars in the distance, above it all. The sound makes the air tremble and split. Your ears would bleed, were you a weaker species. 

(A necessary sacrifice— she— she was already dead. Past saving. You only have two hearts. One which is yours and one which is now—)

Yingxing’s.

Your beloved flinches. Lurches as unnatural growth burgeons from him. He wails on the ground as magics spin within him. You are doing the most unholy thing to him. But, you must, right? You cannot lose him. You cannot lose Yingxing. You have given everything, always, as every self, to your role and its meaning— can you not have this one thing? May your beloved not stay by your side, however unfair and painful the circumstances?

Unblemished, ghostly pale tissue regrows from Yingxing’s body at an alarming pace. It rejoins his upper and lower halves together as he screams. 

Yingxing’s hands wrap around your neck and you’re shoved into the dirt. You are not expecting the force and the impact, even less so. The air knock out of you and the cloudhymns shudder. The magics are thinner for a moment, you could see your other companions if you chose to. You could see how many Xianzhou cloud knights have fallen to the beast you created.

You ignore them.

You ignore them all to look up at your beloved. Eyes now a wild red, teeth glimmering white and stained with blood. His hair has darkened, silver turned dark, like it had been dipped in thick, viscous oil. Yingxing bares his teeth and screams at you. 

“WHAT DID YOU DO!”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, DAN FENG!”

—!

✶    ✶    ✶    ✶    ✶   ✶

Dan Heng awakens to a silent Astral Express. The trainship is still docked and it’s running on ancillary power in the meantime. 

It’s entirely too quiet. All he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

He scrambles to grab at his own chest— there’s no gaping hole. There’s no— there’s no blood on his hands (not real, material blood anyway . Various parties would beg to differ as to if he has any actual blood on his hands. But, the past is the past, isn’t it? These dreams are the afterimages of the life of a deadman. That’s all they can be. The man that chases him across the universe bears a different name and a younger face. The man who will always make time for him on a Godship, so very far away, may use his name ‘Dan Heng’, but is that who he truly sees when he looks at Dan Heng?)

Dan Heng dry heaves into his hands.

He barely manages to crawl to the little bathroom attached to his room to puke his brains out. He hasn’t had much of an appetite over the past few days, and most of what comes up is water, pile, and half-digested rice porridge.

By the time he withdraws and flushes, wiping his hand over his mouth, he feels winded. Disgusting. Sweaty and entirely too wet. 

Shower.

Dan Heng methodically grabs his few supplies and walks across the silent Astral Express to the showers. He could take a bath— maybe it would help. March keeps minty bath products out and available that are so strong that they tend to pull any of the Express’s passengers out of a funk if used. There’s a little basket of them in the tiled common area of the baths. There’s a hand-written note in March’s perfect scrawl that says “Please take one❤️!) 

Dan Heng snatches a few before picking his favored, individual shower. There’s a little atrium before entering the shower itself, where he sheds his drenched bedclothes and hangs them, along with his towel. He turns on the shower and idles for a moment, listening to the dull roar of it.

Water splashes onto him in droplets. There’s a (dormant. Dormant. He swears it’s dormant) instinct to ball the errant water up and toy with it with cloudhymn. The pearl that idles in the center of Cloud Piercer has many different ways to harness its power beyond a weapon of steel that—

(Isn’t his, is it?)

Dan Heng wants to vomit again. He steps into the spray before the nausea overtakes him.

The spray is cold— he usually takes cold showers, regardless of if it’s after a particularly intimate dream. He prefers cold water. He enjoys cold baths, but they’re a luxury he enjoys only once in a while, and usually for the better part of a day. He’ll stay submerged for what would be a worrisome amount of time (if he didn’t bear the spare parts of imbibitor lunae) and, despite his assurances, worries the rest of the crew. As sedentary and reclusive as Dan Heng can be, camping out in the baths for the better part of a day causes a stir amongst the express.

They’re a treat, a bothersome one.

Now, he washes himself thoroughly. It’s a mechanical and rhythmic thing. It soothes him. His breath comes steadier.

Dan Heng hasn’t had a dream that unpleasant in quite some time. He has always had the more gruesome— of tragedies beyond this knowledge. But, they’re rarer. He is haunted more frequently by memories of pleasure and that almost makes the shadow of Dan Feng more cloying. The gruesome are just that— gruesome. He has put together pieces of Dan Feng’s sin, though he refuses to touch the Archive’s documents ported from the Luofu on the subject. 

Ignorance is bliss and Dan Heng feels knowledgeable enough. The breach between his own memories and Dan Feng’s is less solid than it once was. Dan Heng will more than likely find out with time.

It despairs him for a moment as he turns off the water and towels off. He feels— more lucid. Better. 

He’s surprised that you haven’t sought him out.

There’s— no way you didn’t perceive that dream. Dan Heng can’t be entirely sure what you mean when you call a dream ‘loud’, but he knows the very real pain he felt during it could constitute as such. He listens closely as he dresses in new bedclothes. The Express is still quiet aside from machine hum.

Dan Heng could check on you. He thinks about it. Your room is just past Stelle’s and considering you weren’t in the parlor car, you’re probably there.

You shouldn’t have seen that. But, it’s not like Dan Heng can help it, right? 

The tangle of feelings within Dan Heng writhes as he exits the showers. It grows even more unruly as he notes a change in the parlor car.

Resting on one of the plush seats is a hastily folded blanket, a still-steaming cup of tea, and a small, folded note.

Dan Heng approaches and reads.

DH

i’ve noticed you like my blankets. take this one. it’s one of my favorites.

have some tea and rest if you can.

— [name] ╰(*°▽°*)

The penmanship is shaky, and clearly quickly written. None of the paper’s folds match up with each other. There’s a spill of tea on the coffee table that looks half-wiped away. 

Something heavy settles in Dan Heng’s gut. He gathers the blanket, the tea, and your note and heads back to the archives with a pit in his chest.

Like he’s still missing a heart.

...

Things come to a head a few days later. The rest of the Astral Express crew is still sorting things on the space station, and you and Dan Heng only have so much space to dodge each other.

And, truthfully? Dan Heng stopped avoiding you the day before yesterday. Now, he is actively (read: passively but passionately) trying to seek you out. This involves listening keenly for when you leave your room, but lately, those trips are few and far between. And always occurring while Dan Heng is asleep. Pom Pom confirms this, looking increasingly uneasy at the clear tension between the two of you.

Dan Heng— doesn’t know what to do. He is good at running from his problems. He put Cloud Piercer through— Blade’s chest any number of times and hopped to the next planet more times than he cared to think about. He ran from the shackling prison, the Luofu, and its General without looking back even in a cursory way. Dan Heng finds sentimentality to be a new feeling, a new fixture within his person and does not know how to handle it. He does not want to run away from you— he wants to run toward you.

The blankets of yours (three in total) are in his nest. He paces the passenger car each night hoping you’ll reveal yourself. He hovers outside of your door, hand poised to knock, but he never does.

He does not know what he’d say. 

Dan Heng does not have confidence in his words in that way. He can speak well— it’s an overhang from Dan Feng, and he is grateful for it, but on more than one occasion, March has (rather explosively) shouted at him for being so... blank-faced in the heat of an emotional conflict. The two of them occasionally do butt heads, usually when March is attempting to run headfirst into a situation without proper forethought, and those encounters have ended with March tearfully screaming at Dan Heng to just be “honest with his face!” 

His lack of expression is also an overhang for Dan Feng. 

No matter how well-crafted his sentences and well-spoken his words, Dan Heng cannot connect them to how he feels... effectively. It’s disjointed. Like armor made with incorrectly sized plates that cannot possibly be pieced together. Clothing created with a misdrawn pattern, never able to be sewn in a wearable way. 

If he were to face you, he is certain he will not be able to voice how he feels.

He can at least— do something. Give you something, since you seem so hellbent on leaving him special tea blends you’ve stashed away and BLANKETS. 

(Do you have any idea what you’re doing to him?)

Dan Heng stops trying to run from you. He resolves to do something or say something because it's better than the widening rift that’s currently being run through the Astral Express, between the two of you. 

Dan Heng gets his opportunity in the late evening. He’d— feigned sleep. Intentionally. A deep state of meditation for long enough that you might think he was enjoying a dreamless night of sleep, however, he’d only be idle, waiting for sounds of any of your activity in the direction of the parlor and meal car. 

Dan Heng hears your door slide open down the hall as he sits upright, cross-legged in his nest of many blankets and pillows. Your steps are quiet, the lightest pad against the flooring outside. He strains to hear you.

He does notice, however, how you move even slower as you walk past his door. So clearly intentionally trying to keep quiet for his sake.

Dan Heng waits a few minutes until he’s certain you’re either in the Parlor Car or Meal Car before uncrossing his legs and bounding from his room. He means— to be more put together about this. But, he’s nervous he’ll miss his chance, and you’ll retreat, and be gone for longer—

Dan Heng finds you in the meal car, poking over cold dinner leftovers with a sullen expression. Your brows are heavy, eyes dull. You look— awful. You always look awful, he’s sure you’ll assure him, but now you look bad. You look ill. Unwell. The oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders billows in an uncomfortable way. It has too many undone buttons, leaving a deep v, exposing too much of your chest.

You look up at him, eyes widening.

“I thought you were asleep.” You say softly, putting down the tongs you had been using. You didn’t bother picking up any food, your little bowl is entirely empty. 

Dan Heng opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He snaps it shut a moment later.

Your eyes soften and you sag. You look like you could melt into the Express’s floor at any moment. Your eyes radiate... pity. 

“Did I wake you? I try to be quiet.” You laugh, looking sidelong, out one of the many windows. “Sorry about the fuss. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Dan Heng is frozen.

You idle, only for a moment, holding your breath, before shaking your head minutely. It— it makes his palms sweat. You try to shuffle past him. Dan Heng is blocking your only exit, and you attempt to side-step him as he gapes at you, unmoving. Unsure.

Dan Heng grabs you by the forearm as you pass.

He holds you there. Steady. His grip is firm and unyielding. Maybe too tight, based on your sharp intake of breath as you wobble in place. Dan Heng steadies you with his other hand. Without— thinking, his palm lands on your ribcage and you jump with the contact.

You stare at him, wide-eyed. 

And you face each other.

“You’re avoiding me.” Dan Heng speaks first. His words feel sure, but there’s a sticky feeling in his chest.

“... Perhaps.” You smile easily, despite how worn you look. “It seems like you have a lot on your mind. I didn’t want my presence and what it entails to burden you, dearest Dan Heng. I apologize if that wasn’t clear.”

“What do you mean by your ‘presence and what entails’?” 

You look like you’ve been punched. Dan Heng feels ill. 

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Please be straightforward. 

“Kind Dan Heng, I am—” 

“Please, explain yourself.” Dan Heng feels— frustration bubble up into the back of his throat. It’s acidic. He looks from the grip he has on your arm to your face, lingering on the chapped lines of your lips before meeting your eyes. “Why do you think you would burden me?”

You look at him sadly, “I thought we’ve been over this.”

“We haven’t, to my knowledge.”  Dan Heng frowns. You look like you’ve been slapped.

“I apologize.” You shouldn’t be. “Dan Heng, don’t I know too much?”

He locks his jaw. 

You continue. “You’re an incredibly private person. I don’t want to know about a past you’re clearly not comfortable sharing. I cannot help what I am able to perceive, however I can create some distance between the two of us, so as not to suffocate you with the fact that I know about your dirty laundry without your expressed consent.”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry. 

You’re an unbearably earnest individual. As mysterious as you make yourself, you don’t tend to lie. You’re blunt in a way that’s disarming, heart flayed open as if rended with a short, sharp blade, on display for anyone who would like to view and poke at it. 

“I apologize for communicating that more effectively,” You add more softly. You place your hand over his, the one bracing your arm. You squeeze. “It must be hard to bear those things, and you’ve made it clear you wish to do so alone. I want to respect that and you, Dan Heng. My door is always open, but I thought it might be easier for you to not... be reminded so easily, by my presence.”

Your eyes are wet as you look away from him, to the floor. You take the smallest, most guarded intake of breath. It looks like you’re trying not to cry.  

Dan Heng feels something cold and large in his chest. Big enough to swallow him whole. 

He says your name, even and unwavering, with the weight of the sea behind it. You glance up at him, straining to give him your same lazy, forced smile—

And he kisses it off your lips.

It’s not an action Dan Heng thinks about. You’re almost close enough to feel each other’s breath regardless. One moment, he is staring at you with his own frown, and the next his lips are on yours, tilting his head to search for the best angle. The force of the action has you stumbling back into the wall behind you. The hand he kept on your ribs moves to your waist, bracing you.

It takes a moment for you to react. A startled little (whimper, a whimper) sound gets muffled by his lips as he cradles your jaw. Deepening the gesture. You react and— return it. Moving your lips against his, leaning into his grip. 

Only to freeze, and shove at his shoulders a moment later, “W-Wait.”

Dan Heng pulls back, panting.

“You don’t have to do this,” you tell him. There’s an urgency in your voice like you’re scared. You nervously run your hands up and down his arms. Dan Heng doesn’t even think you’re aware you’re doing so. “I— I offered sex to you seriously, but— don’t just take my affection because you want to close the distance. There’s other ways to be intimate, you know?”

“I’m aware,” says Dan Heng. Your lips are just barely kiss bruised. He wants to make it worse. It’s an easier expression of the gulf in his chest that writhes with your closeness. “However, I want to fuck you.”

The dullness of your eyes is stolen as they widen. Heat rises in your cheeks. You’re stunned speechless.

...

Dan Heng wants to eat you.

As in, he wants to have you in his mouth, under his teeth and tongue, and get you in his gut so you never go away again. It’s— a draconic instinct. Something carnal and old that could swallow him alive. It is another overhang from Dan Feng. Such bloody impulses aren’t... uncommon for Dan Heng. However, he has learned to temper them with training, combat, and more recently, some expression of cloudhymn.

Never sex, however. Because your initial guess was correct. Dan Heng has not ever had sex, and the last time Dan Feng had had sex, he is fairly certain was a teary, bloody affair with a half-dead, bloodied Yingxing. 

This encounter, however, is very different.

There is no swirling Scalegorge and broken, coral-lined streets. There is no sand grating against his knees over Yingxing's almost-corpse. There is no tempest of his own making, cracking the sky in two, and tearing the world asunder.

Rather, there is his nest of blankets and pillows, and your soft body below him. He straddles your waist, protecting the curve of your thighs with his own. The lights of the Archive’s room are dim, the machine hum below is lulling background noise and comforting. And you— you’re warm— not cold or bloodied. Your eyes are soft, but keen in a different way from the man in the echoes of memory. There’s no sharpness to you, not in your words or your presence.

You’re gentle as you cup Dan Heng’s jaw and drag him closer to kiss him.

“You’re thinking pretty hard.” You murmur against his lips. “Are you sure you want this?”

The question makes him— angry. He still doesn’t know how to voice it, so instead he pressed you down into the floor. A bodily expression.

Your hands tangle in his hair and stroke at the lower curve of his skull. It’s gentle, rhythmic and lulling. It’s nothing like—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears at your scalp, hands wound into your long hair. His cock is buried in your throat, bullied there at your request. He’s seated so deep that your nose is buried in the bristly, silver hairs at the base of him. His scent is intoxicant, musky and unclean. Instinct tells you it’s impure, but you have learned that’s conditioning.

You want to swallow him whole.

You swallow around his cock as Yingxing grinds into your throat. You gag, you always do, but Yingxing ignores you in favor of fucking your face with more vigor. The sounds that drag from you are obscene. Ugly things, guttural sounds. Tears drip down your cheeks, spit down your chin—

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You kiss him softly, pliant beneath him and snake a hand lower, easily. It’s practiced. Like you’ve done this a hundred times. The rhythm of intimacy seems easy. You palm over his increasingly hard cock and smile against his lips.

“Does it feel good?” you ask, voice soft and curling. 

Before Dan Heng can reply, you’re licking up his jaw, to his ear. You nip and suck and Dan Heng can’t help the way his eyes roll back in his head. He groans, rolling his hips against your hand. The friction is dry, but it’s something. Something new and different and not an arousing nightmare. But an arousing reality.

He moans at the contact. The sound startles him.

You seem pleased as you hum against his ear and kiss down from his most sensitive spot, lower, licking over skin with practiced motions. You nip at his collarbones, laughing under your breath when Dan Heng twitches with the pressure of it.

Dan Heng feels— thoroughly disarmed. The feeling grows more intense as you coax him to flip your positions in the next moment.

His back hits the mound of pillows softly. You cradle the back of his head as he moves and massage his scalp.

It’s— the care of it that feels different. There was clearly care between Dan Feng and Yingxing. Too much, in Dan Heng’s opinion— (they shared the kind of care that tore history asunder, love so brilliant and cloying that it could only bring sticky destruction). The kind you give him is different. There’s a warmth in your gaze which is foreign. Yingxing held passion and a brightly burning heat that would surely burn itself out too young. Branding heat.

Yours is tender, the warmth of a hearth you stacked and lit yourself. You beckon him closer with a smile on your lips and hands tangled in his hair. You tug on it, with the barest edge of pain. Dan Heng likes it. 

Your knee slots between his thighs, something to grind onto. He can’t help the way he yearns for more contact, and seeks the friction. His pants are too tight, but he doesn’t want to remove them yet.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing tears off your clothes. Your finest robes— the ceremonial ones, silks with intricate embroidery and beaded with perfectly cut crystals— are in tatters by your bedside within moments. Yingxing’s want is unyielding. The lips that move against your own are so much, and so good. You crave it. Yingxing licks into your mouth and you moan loud enough for your entire home to hear. Never mind your attendants and preceptors. 

Let them talk. Let them gossip. You have never cared for legacy regardless.

Yingxing rips away your undergarments. Gossamer things, thin and mostly see-through. You’re already hard, leaking, aching for touch. Yingxing spits on his palm and strokes you. He doesn’t stop as you squirm. You’re not used to touch, especially not like this. No matter how often Yingxing takes you like this, your body cannot fully acclimate quickly. 

It takes a moment.

Yingxing uses this to his advantage. He holds you like he has something to prove as he swipes away pre from the head of your cock and licks it off his thumb. He looks smug, smitten, vibrant, and enthralled.

“How many times can I make you come tonight?” Yingxing purrs, voice rough and silken all at once. You feel your cock twitch in his hand. He smirks. “What if I break you?”

“I’d throw you through a window.” You snap at him.

“You wouldn’t.” Yingxing rubs down to the base of your cock and plays with your most tender parts. You try to kick him and he catches your ankle. Yingxing, the bastard he is, presses a kiss to your ankle. Reverent. “You like it when I break you.”

“You’re terrible.”

“And I’m yours. And I’d like to make Yinyue-Jun cry tonight.” 

It’s— humiliating the way he speaks to you sometimes. He adores you. He loves you. And for that reason, he knows he can get away with goading you on and shoving you around as he does. He knows intimately what it all does to you. The way your cheeks flush and your cock leaks down its shaft are enough of an indicator. No one sees you bare. Just— him.

Just him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng starts to remove your clothes. 

You seem surprised when he does. You try to take over the task yourself, but Dan Heng bats your hands away.

He wants to do this.

Dan Heng is methodical with each button and overly careful. He watches the rise and fall of your chest, noting how it hastens as he works on the last few buttons. The garment is pushed off your shoulders and discarded into his nest.

Seeing you bare is— vulnerable. Surely. You attempt to smile but— Dan Heng sees the cracks in it. As lax as you try to be, this is something different for you as well. Another mystery woven into you that Dan Heng wants to pick apart.

He rubs at your hips, up your ribs and to your chest. You gasp with his touch, leaning back to brace yourself on his thighs. It exposes you more, and— gives him more room to indulge. He cups your breast and steels his resolve when you whine.

Dan Heng has never done this. He wasn’t sure he ever would. It feels foreign and odd to touch you this way, but Dan Heng likes it. The heat that rises in your cheeks when he pinches your nipples. The soft puffs of breath and the sweat of arousal that’s growing on your temple. You roll your hips down onto his clothed cock, seeking the same contact he does. 

There’s a tumble to it then. The task of disrobing continues, and you end up entirely nude on top of him, while Dan Heng is still fully clothed.

“... Is this more comfortable for you?” You ask. You aren’t... shy about your body. But there’s an unfamiliar squirm in your upper half that Dan Heng reads as discomfort.

You’re exposed. He is not.

“Somewhat.” Dan Heng lays his hand flat over his navel. He imagines what his cock would feel like inside you and he nearly blacks out.

“Why?”

Dan Heng thinks for a moment—

(It’s because Dan Feng liked power. He loved the games where he could have all of the power and control in his hands, and those where it was torn from him as well. He reveled in both. This— want is an afterburn. One that is not Dan Heng’s. Just like every other thought of intimacy and sex that Dan Heng has ever felt—)

“Dan Heng,” You breathe his name and pet his cheeks. You’re closer now, chest to chest. “Can you tell me why? It’s okay if you can’t.”

“It’s too complicated.”

“... Could you try to tell me, still? We have time.”

“I want to fuck you.”

“You can. After.”

Dan Heng frowns at you. He wants to tell you that— he wants it now. And that patience is something he has in spades but you are testing the limits of. Your poking and prodding, he wants to toss it aside in favor of the literal you in his lap.

He wets his lips as you look at him expectantly. You stroke over his cheek, soothing him as if he were an angry kitten.

“I like that—” Dan Heng starts, and his words die in his throat. What he wants to say—

(“I like that I can see all of you, while not revealing any of myself.”)

You seem like less of a mystery like this, bare and sweaty over top of him. There’s less of you that you can obscure. You’re not hiding from him, dodging him, or flaying him open with honesty while so much of you remains tucked away. You cannot hide your own arousal. Your cheeks are hot with it, your pupils dark and dilated, and your lips are licked and wet. 

“Hm?” You hum, a devious smirk stretching over your lips. You grind down onto his cock, with enough pressure that it almost hurts. His eyes roll back into his head. “Can’t you tell me, Dan Heng? Why do you like hiding the way you do?”

Dan Heng stills, opening his eyes to blink at your incredulously.

“... Why do ‘I’ hide?” Dan Heng asks. His tone is rude. He internally slaps his own wrists then forgives himself, because in the next moment, you have your palm over his cock, gripping the length of him through the fabric of his pants. You flick your thumb over where the head is concealed and look smitten with the way his hips jolt.

“I am not a fool.” You toy with the button on his trousers. “Dan Heng, the Nameless, who hides and hides and hides. And feels so infinitely bad when a single card in his hand is revealed. The shame you carry, doesn’t it burden you?”

Dan Heng’s mouth is dry, “I—”

“You can hide like this. I won’t stop you,” You hum, still smiling, still lax in the shoulders. You run a hand up his navel, over his shirt, careful to retain his frail modesty. “Perhaps a bit bashful, yes. But, you’re hiding. How can you crave intimacy when you’re seeking it from behind a veil? Dearest Dan Heng, I will indulge you, because you are dear to me, but will it be fulfilling—?”

You prattle on.

Dan Heng is... seething. Quietly and carefully. Because, you are not wrong. There’s truth to your accusations. You speak no lies, yet the way you’re... delivering the truth is frail and in fragments. Your own eyes look hazy. Your touch grows shaky. Your voice is too soft around the edges for the sharpness of your words. 

Dan Heng—

He knows that look.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You have never had sex before. 

You’ve read about it, because your Preceptors made sure you did when you were young. This was in the case that you were raped, that you would know what the experience was, so it could be reported in an appropriate and timely manner. 

Your exposure to sex beyond that was minimal. Though Vidyadhara copulated, it was not for the sake of procreation. It was based in pleasure, supposedly. You had learned that the humans and foxians of the Xianzhou had sex for the sake of pleasure and power which... you cannot understand. You don’t endeavor to understand it, as you have all of the power that you need. 

(You are naive for this, you will learn in time.)

The first time Yingxing implores you to have sex, you know the rote motions. You assume— that since he is a human, this is what he wants from you. You let Yingxing push you down on your own mattress, and you lay there. Yingxing speaks as he disrobes himself, then tends to you.

Each layer of clothing he removes from your body feels like you’re being cut with a knife.

You haven’t let any attendants dress you since you learned to adeptly use Cloudhymn to assist yourself instead. You frequently wear three, sometimes four, layers of silken clothing, even when you are around your own home. 

No one sees Yinyue-Jun bare.

And yet, Yingxing peels back each garment without much reverie. He undoes metal and mother-of-pearl clasps with a dexterous flick of his fingers and a dashing, sharp-toothed smile over his lips. 

You look down at his own chest when he pushes away the final layer. Your skin is milky, untouched cream. You’re too skinny, the muscle you have is wiry without enough fat. You watch your own chest rise and fall— so quickly. Too quickly. 

When you look up at Yingxing, whatever smile he had worn is gone. He wears concern so transparently over his brow as he cups your cheek. His lips move, and you do not hear him. Your own lips still move, an instinctual reply even if you do not register your own words. You can predict what you’re saying.

(“I am fine.)

(“There is no need to worry about me.”)

(“You are foolish for worrying about me.”)

Yingxing softens after you speak, and thumbs over your lips. The pads of his fingers are rough. You can feel the heat callouses, born of friction and incidental burns. It’s so much different from your own flesh, constantly-healing, pure and so rarely bruised.

Yingxing deftly falls to your side, and scoops you in his arms. He smells like iron and smoke. You’re stiff at his side. 

He speaks directly in your ear, nosing the shell of it, “As much as I would love to bed Yinyue-Jun, I can recognize when I need to be a gentleman about it.”

“... Pardon?” You swallow. Your voice is foggy in your own ears.

Yingxing’s hand settles on his hip. He pulls back just enough to look at you, nose to nose, violet eyes soft in the amber sway of candles in the room. 

“Yinyue-Jun is very brave, for a virgin.” This time, Yingxing smiles like a menace. You punch his back and he seems unperturbed. “Let’s take our time. You have plenty of it, and I have enough to show you how to enjoy this well.”

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Dan Heng understands, then. 

In a smooth motion, he raises his palm to fit over your mouth. You stop speaking beneath it, and you snatch his wrist up in your own grip.

“If I am hiding, then so are you,” Dan Heng says. There is no waver to his voice anymore. “And you are terrified.”

You freeze above him.

It’s enough of an opening for Dan Heng to knit his legs with your own, and drag you down into his nest. He wraps his arms around you, chest-to-chest (covering you, hiding you himself, keeping you safe and sating that fanged, draconic howl in his chest that will never fully quiet). You remain stiff in his arms, eyes wide and you’re not smiling. 

Your gaze flickers up to his and holds it, unrelentingly.

“I don’t mind doing things scared.” You tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Will you enjoy it if you’re scared?”

“... Maybe less, but it’ll feel nice.” You shrug, nosing at his jaw. “I like you, Dan Heng. I wouldn’t have offered sex if I didn’t want to have it.”

Dan Heng locks his jaw. He noses down your jaw, down your neck, to the juncture where your shoulder meets it. The flesh is tender. You have your free arm draped carefully over your chest, covering your most exposed, vulnerable portions as he tries to do the same to you. Your breath is soft, bated as he hovers.

“I don’t want to have sex with you if it will only feel ‘nice’,” Dan Heng says into the hollow of your throat. 

“How demanding.”

The bar is on the fucking ground. “I do not think so.”

Dan Heng slides a hand lower, between your thighs. You’re only wearing shorts, soft amiri-cotton that sparkles in the lowlight of the archive’s room. It’s a thin garment. It takes nothing for Dan Heng to cup a hand over your sex. With dexterity and focus, he presses his middle finger closer. The seam of your cunt is wet, even through the fabric.

“Are you scared or nervous?” He asks.

“Hm, what about you?”

“Do not dodge my question.” He squeezes over your cunt and you clutch at his shoulders with a gasp. “Just answer it.” 

You consider his question, and open your mouth like you’re going to attempt to parry him, then close it again. Your lips are smooth, petal-soft as he thumbs over them, urging them to stay closed until you have an answer. 

Dan Heng struggles with eye contact, but forces himself to stare you down. 

“Both?” You ask behind his finger. There’s a hint of mirth behind your words.

Dan Heng frowns, “How can it... be enjoyable for you?”

“... That’s a good question.” You look far-off for a moment, not there in his nest. “Not quite sure, but I’m sure I can.”

There’s an implicit ‘I have before’ that you do not say. However, with the way your head falls limply to the side in his grip, Dan Heng immediately knows he hit one of your rare soft spots. He— he immediately regrets it. He’s in uncharted territory that he strong-armed his way into. And he— he doesn’t know the way out. He’s a sexless virgin who masturbates once every three months and his most emotionally (and sexually) charged relationship is with the living ghost of a man insistent on killing him.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

Yingxing does not remember much of his youth.

Dan Feng knows this intimately. 

The short-lived have expiring memories that seem to muddle the old over time. Dan Feng cannot understand, as his memory is pristine and clear from the time he emerged from the ancient sea in a jade-colored egg.

Yingxing remembers the Zhuming, vaguely, and then remembers arriving on the Luofu. He vaguely remembers his first meeting with Baiheng, and sleeping on a little cot in her tiny apartment while he worked his way up in the Artisanship Commission. Lucidly, these are his earliest memories.

Outside of lucidity, Dan Feng knows Yingxing remembers more.

Occasionally, something will make Yingxing remember his unpleasant, smallest youth. The loud boom of the Luofu’s biggest fireworks. A snarling dog. Splintering wood. The scent of burnt hair.

It makes Yingxing stiffen, tense, and draw up in himself.

Dan Feng has done his own research early on. In his adolescence, Yingxing was nothing more than a scrappy refugee with nothing to his name.

Yingxing’s home planet, a lush-planet... abundant in jungle lands and river systems, was plundered by abundance. Borisins. Most of its population was wiped out. Yingxing escaped due to good fortune, luck, and no doubt sacrifices he couldn’t remember.

He understands Yingxing’s passion and revulsion much better after he learns these things. 

It all enrages Dan Feng.

Yingxing’s fragmented memory, which continues to weather with time, can only give him the basest impulses when faced with something that makes him remember that frightening time. Even if he cannot remember in the mind, then he does in the body.

Dan Feng does not tell Yingxing that he knows. Yingxing is too proud a man— he’ll take offense and cause trouble. Dan Feng thinks it is better that he himself hold the knowledge, and soothe him how he can. Dan Feng can stew within himself, hone Cloud Piercer, and cut those who slighted his beloved. 

It is something beyond duty. 

An expression of care, one that tastes briny and bloody on Dan Feng’s fangs.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“Can I help?” Dan Heng asks.

You blink at him. He strokes down your cheek. You hum and press your lips into his palm.

“Can you?”

“I— I will,” Dan Heng stammers. “How can I make this less... scary, for you?”

Can he?

Your gaze penetrates him. It’s something sharp, seeking. Looking for his weak spots for a moment. You’re searching for danger in him.

You soften and cozy up closer, a moment later.

“Just... take your time, and I’ll take mine.” You kiss him, and speak against his lips. “It’s easier if we both can ease into it.” 

Dan Heng nods. He... he wants to fuck you. He will.

...

You pick each other apart. Bit by bit, piece by piece. 

It is a slow affair, one neither of you truly lead. You spur Dan Heng on, and he follows. 

He guides you when he can, when it feels natural and normal. You seem content in those moments, more relaxed and soft-eyed.

You do not wear a full facade all of the time, but Dan Heng now knows that you are careful to keep yourself skillfully hidden. 

Dan Heng finds this out, intimately, while he is between your thighs, tongue against your slit. He laps at you, in the motions you describe. Your hands are buried in his hair, directing him with your grip and the gentle grind of your hips against his face. It is— heavenly. Your thighs around his ears, the scent of you. He left a few pointed bite marks on your thighs, which you had yelped at.

He enjoyed giving them.

You fall apart against his mouth in a way he hasn’t seen before.

It’s— so good to watch. When he looks up at you, you gasp, you whine, and throw your wrist over your mouth to muffle the sounds you’re letting out. Each gasp has Dan Heng earnestly trying to wring more out of you. He watches your eyes roll back as you crest. Your thighs clamp around his skull and a broken sound rips from your throat. He guides you through it, then moves to your hole, lapping at your essence until he’s sure he’s drenched in it.

You pull him up for a kiss, and lick into his mouth. Your hands shake as they pet over his cheeks and jaw. Against his lips, you tell him— “you did so well”, “that was so good”, “thank you” —

The praise is almost unbearable Dan Heng has to hide his burning face in your neck to escape the vulnerability of it. 

You pay it no mind, and just laugh at him, smothering your lips into his mused-up hair.

It’s— it’s good. It’s good and soft and nothing like the dreams he’s carried with him for fair too long.

“Did you enjoy that?” You ask him, forcing him to look at you.

“I did.”

“Good.” You’re smitten with the answer and rub at his waist. You’d— clawed off his shirt at one point. Bare to each other. Dan Heng only has on his final layer of underwear that is increasingly tight and wet, with a growing patch of pre on the front.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” You ask. Your hand, gentle, slides down his front, between your bodies to rub over his cock. 

Dan Heng— struggles to find words as you tease the head of it with the tip of a finger. The smile you wear is devilish. 

“Maybe later—” He manages. “I want to— be inside you.”

He wants to be closer.

You look content with that, and pet him some more.

“In due time,” You kiss his cheek. “Will you allow me to be cruel, and make you wait a little longer?”

“It’s not cruel.”

“Okay, mean then.”

“You’re the furthest thing from mean.” Dan Heng frowns. He bites your cheek in retaliation without thinking and you squirm, pinned beneath him. A laugh bubbles from your throat, and Dan Heng can’t help but twin the sound. 

“So kind.”

...

Time stretches out, between languid kissing and the feel of your bare bodies so close, the night and day cycles the Express regulates do not seem of consequence. It’s the most relaxed Dan Heng has been in recent memory. You make it easy to be so.

You have no expectations when you touch him, other than the easy exchange of heat and spit. 

By the time Dan Heng has your legs wrapped around your waist, cock against your hole, he’s light-headed. He wants, so much. The image of you laid out before him, bare and covered in various marks of his, will be with him for years. There’s nothing lazy or unfocused about your gaze now, there’s only desire, so hot and needy that it makes Dan Heng’s throat feel tight.

You flex your hips, pushing the tip of his cock against your clit. You both gasp.

“Please, Dan Heng?” You say smugly as you play with the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“I—” The words die in his throat.

He strokes up and down the flesh of your stomach. Your muscles are relaxed, soft. You’re no longer playing a role, he thinks. You’re here, wanting, edging toward begging him. The head of his cock is purple from strain and prolonged arousal. 

He presses into you slowly.

You are stretched, and Dan Heng isn’t particularly large, so he does not see any strain cross your features. If anything, there’s relief. If you were relaxed before, you’re boneless now, taking as much of him as he will give you.

Dan Heng fucks you in earnest then, under the glow of the Archive’s many machines and fixtures. You grab at his shoulders and bury your face in his neck. Dan Heng didn’t think he shared Dan Feng’s proclivity for pain, however the way your nails wrack down his back has him throbbing from inside you.

By the time he spills inside you, he’s gasping, sobbing with each thrust because it is so much. Closeness— like this— that’s real and tangible and in his grasp and within his body (only his, no one else’s) feels so vibrant and violent, it cleaves him open. He comes with a broken sound muffled into your throat, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh there. You let him, spasming with the pressure and letting out your own half-cry with the pain. Dan Heng fucks you through his orgasm, until he can’t support his weight on his knees, and he falls on top of you.

You let out a little ‘oof’, and then laugh, wrung out and happy. 

Dan Heng cherishes the memory.

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

You are most tired, but you must continue to move forward.

Despite your aching rear and scratchy eyes, there are duties to attend to. Never mind that your husband is in your bed, knocked out, regardless of whatever regenerative cloudhymns you could give him. Yingxing is mortal, and no matter how much of you he consumes (figuratively), it only slows his aging, never stopping it completely.

Yingxing will die, long before you do. And that is if he dies of old age and not the diseases and maladies of the short-lived. Or some violence that you and the rest of the Quintet will be unable to protect him from.

This will not do.

You enter your study with sweeping, loose robes. You tell your attendants to leave you be. Your ritual obligations are not until the evening. Until then, you will be confine yourself in your study and continue to pour over the scrolls, documents, and books you have been able to find. It has been hard to procure some of them— having Sanctus Medicus texts brought to the home of the High Elder would be treasonous. It has required careful planning to amass the library you have, and you are diligent in keeping it hidden. Even from your lover.

He would not forgive you, were he to know.

You have never been selfish, not once in your life. In any of your lives. You have lived for your people, the Luofu, and a dead Aeon that you remain the after-image of. You have played the part well, smiled when necessary and remained cold enough to rarely stir dangerous interests. You have healed many without complaint.

As you settle into your nest of pillows and blankets, and pick up your newest scroll, you don’t feel that guilty. You will let yourself have this one thing. If nothing else in any of your lifetimes, this one fucking thing will be yours. 

You unfurl the scroll with a yawn. It’s a text, an old one, from the High Elder that followed Yubie. They lived a short life for a high elder, two hundred years. However, they were a prolific scholar. Most of their works have been hidden away with time, as some are downright blasphemous and utilize the Abundance in a way that both the Vidyadhara’s high council and the Luofu’s Charioteers could not tolerate. 

This particular one has not seen the light of day since that High Elder’s time. It is titled:

[The Twin-Hearted Dragon Theory: The Permanence and Abundance’s Coalescing] 

✶ — ✶ — ✶ — ✶

“What a weird one.” You say with a yawn. Dan Heng can hear your voice through your chest, where his cheek is pillowed on your bare chest. He— there’s a spot of drool that’s cooling unpleasantly. He blinks awake and rises off you, to rub the stickiness away, blushing furiously.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It was cute. You were sleeping good, for once.” You tell him and muse up his hair. “Besides, you’ve gotten me far messier than that.” 

You both are messy. Dan Heng can feel the stickiness on his softened cock, and he imagines you’re leaking between your legs. He sneaks a hand between your body and gently feels along your thighs to confirm his suspicion.

You gasp when he grazes your core. You— you are dripping. Cold, too. It must be uncomfortable. Dan Heng frowns.

“Don’t worry about that.” You assure him, voice shaking. “We can clean up in a little bit.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable?”

“Maybe,” you hum, unsure. “I don’t mind it, regardless.”

Dan Heng raises himself up off of you, and braces his hands on your inner thighs. He’s warmed with the combined heat of the Archives, his nest, and you. You’re chilled under him and— Dan Heng. Can’t have that. He can’t totally trace why, he pulls a blanket up and over your bodies. 

You let him arrange you as he sees fit. He brings you to his chest, and fits your head under his chin. He tangles your legs, indulges in the contact and tries to transfer some of his volcanic heat into you. You look content as he does, nuzzling into his throat. 

Your own eyelids droop.

“Are you going to sleep?” He asks. 

“... Probably not.” You say with a yawn.

“You look tired.”

“I am,” You nod and push closer. “But, I don’t need to, and it’s hard to get myself to sleep. It’s more trouble than it's worth, trying to sleep.”

Dan Heng doesn’t think before speaking. “Has it always been hard?” 

You pause, breathing even and slowly, “Not always.”

“Why did it get harder?”

You choose your words carefully then, despite your evident exhaustion. Your brow droops, and you rub at Dan Heng’s sides. Your thumbs skitter over his ribs.

“How much do you know about the Kin of Sacha, Dan Heng?” You ask. “It provides context. I’d hate to bore you.”

“... Very little. The databanks only has limited information.”

“Oh, you looked for me?” You nip at his jaw, playful, even as Dan Heng prepares a nervous rebuttal. You soothe his distress before it can get anywhere. “I’m kidding— and it makes sense there’s not much about us out there. There aren’t that many of us to begin with.”

“... How many?”

“I’m not sure, truthfully. Probably less than a thousand. Maybe half of that. Unless Sacha has... awoken to bless more. But I doubt that.”

You rarely mention the Aeon who provided you your sleeplessness and dream-seeing. You even more seldom mention anyone you knew prior to your time on the express.

You sign, “Typically, the Kin of Sacha work as mystics or laborers. Some societies we encountered saw the Aeon’s gifts as a psychic boon to be cultivated. Others, like the one I was raised in, saw the Kin as a well of infinite, tireless labor. You learn quickly under those expectations that even if you could sleep, it’s more ideal not to.”

Conditioning, then.

Dan Heng thinks back to when he first saw you at that rest stop. How you’d swayed on your two feet, eyes glassy and far away. How long they took to focus. How the embroidered logo on your breast must’ve belonged to whatever company you’d been under the employ of. Pieces fit together, and Dan Heng feels slightly sick.

“You don’t— need to be like that, now. You should sleep.”

With your hands braced on his chest, you lean back to look at him. Your gaze is soft, unguarded. You look almost plush with it. 

“... I guess I should.”

(I guess I could.)

That’s all it takes, really. You nearly collapse back into the nest, and Dan Heng settled himself to be curled around you. If— If he still deigned to manifest his Vidyadharan tail, perhaps it would be curled around you both. 

But, Dan Heng does not manifest any tail. You do not need to stay awake. You both rest under the filtered, soft light of the Archives, and that is all you must do. 

[phfenomena]

“you’re my only hope of getting into heaven, angel.” || William H. Bonney x reader

giving cowboy realness fr

| WARNINGS- sexual innuendo

| William H. Bonney x Reader fluff

the morning air is crisp and clean as it filters in through the windows and propagates throughout the entire house. the sudden chill and the bright rays of light beaming into your eyes forced them open.

jesus christ it feels like the middle of january in here.

your gaze settles upon your still slumbering partner. you shuffle closer and wedge yourself into his arms, your chest pressing into his. he stirs lightly as you continue to make yourself comfortable, as if he’s a heated rag doll.

“what are you doing, angel?” he croaks above you, voice thickly laced with sleep.

you hum softly “nothing, just freezing in here. you’re warm, like a nice campfire.” he chuckles softly and pulls you closer. his head perks up to press a kiss against the top of yours.

“it’s so damn cold, i might already have hypothermia. you’ll have to warm me up better than this.” you nod as you talk and stare lightly up at him, your smile residing in her eyes.

“why don’t i get up and close the windows, doll? that might fix your deadly condition.” he muses from above you. you ponder the idea but ultimately reject.

“you’ll leave me alone and cold in bed. you said i was your sweetheart. how could you leave me when i’m on death's doorstep?” you pout and he rolls his eyes.

“you’re too dramatic for your own good.” he rubs his arms over every inch he can reach to bring your temperature up.

“i won’t let you go dying on me, darling. you’re my only hope of getting into heaven, angel, so we gotta go together. i’ll have to jump the gates if you go first.” he almost whispers against your ear, his voice still not wanting to wake up. you look up at him and smile softly, your hand trailing up and settling on the side of his face. “you’re a good man, billy. even if god didn’t let you into heaven, i’d run down to hell for you. atleast i wouldn’t be cold there.” you smile wide and lean up to press your lips together.

he moves his hand to rest behind your head as he attempts to deepens the kiss while slowing the pace that your lips meet at. he reluctantly pulls back and takes a deep breath. his hand trailing down and drawing shapes on your hip. “you know, i could think of a few ways to warm you up real quick.” he smirks against your lips and narrows his eyes while looking into your wide ones. raising his eyebrows he rolls on top of you.

“i think that sounds like a wonderful idea, mr. bonney.” you wrap your arms around his neck and admire him. his messy hair, his tired eyes, and his dopey grin plastered across his face. yeah, you’d follow him to hell.

“hey billy i know it’s real early but-“ jesse saunters through the bedroom door and stops with wide eyes upon seeing the encounter. “i’ll…come back later.” he quickly averts his eyes down to avoid eye contact and firmly shuts the door.

billy’s head hangs low as you both hysterically laugh and he rolls off of you. “works calling, angel. are you warm or do i need to stay in bed with you all day?” he spoke softly as he fiddled with pieces of your hair and the lace from your nightgown.

“i’ll be okay, billy. you better get goin’ before jesse comes back in here” you smile as you kiss one last time and watch billy undress then dress again. shamelessly eyeing him until he leaves the room, not without one more kiss.

you’d fight the damn devil for that man.

[m2ok]

I’ve never been so madly in love

Cowboy! Johnny Mactavish x bottom! M!reader

Tw: soft fluffy smut

A/N: Guys this is my first time writing smut…I think I did alright, but let me know if you have any critiques for future reference :) 

Johnny twisted in the bonds tied around his wrists, thick rope cutting into soft skin as he wriggled about from where you had placed him on top of your horse. 

“Oh come on!” He groaned, trying with all he had to stretch the rope and break it, but to no avail. 

You ignored him, the hefty bounty you would get for his capture heavy on your mind as you made your way steadily back to your little town for which you were the sheriff of. 

Seemingly annoyed at your lack of attention, he shuffled forward as much as he could on the horse, knocking his shoulder into yours to force you to put your eyes on him. 

“Can we at least stop for the night! Wolves live near these parts and I’d rather not meet em.” He tried to reason. 

You rolled your eyes at the man as you ventured onwards, shaking your head at his pleas. 

“With the bounty on your head I wouldn’t worry about wolves. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ them take that money from me” you assured, though positive your words did little to comfort him. 

Johnny chuckled dryly, “aw sheriff, you wound me.” he mocked, struggling against the ropes halfheartedly. After a moment he sighed, once again giving up.

“Tell me honest pal, that bounty’s all worth it? All the work, risking your neck each time? For what, a few coins and a pat on the back?” He gazed ahead down the darkening trail. The trees seemed closer, though miles ahead still, shadowy figures lurking within just awaiting his arrival. 

“When was the last time you took a rest, had yourself a drink or dance with a pretty thing?” Johnny glanced sidelong at you, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite his words. 

You were tempted to ignore him once again, but you figured conversation might do you some good out on the dusty landscape. Though you wished it was with better company. 

“Dance with who? You?” You scoffed, shaking your head as you adjusted your hat so it wouldn’t cover your eyes. 

“This here’s the only work I’ve known. I’ll be damned If I let it go now,” you didn’t care much for the money nor the glory despite what you had said, the chase was the most fun part; that was what kept you going and made the job enjoyable. 

And Johnny was the only man who routinely matched your wits. Though this time proved different, this time you had finally won. It was a kind of euphoria you hadn’t felt in a long while. 

Johnny let out an obnoxious bark of laughter. “Well now sheriff, I’ll have you know I get rather frisky when I’ve had one too many. But you don’t seem the type.” His smile faded as he pondered your words. 

“Aye…I get it. The thrill of it all keeps the blood pumpin’. Nothin else quite like the open road.” He sighed wistfully. “What I wouldn’t give to feel that freedom again, even if just for a night.”

The horses slowed as darkness fell. Up ahead was a small clearing, as good a spot as any to camp, and it had Johnny eying you sideways again.

 “Bet you five dollars i can wriggle outta these here ropes by mornin’. Whaddya say?” He flash a rougish grin, bright eyes watching for your reaction.

You stopped the horses as you camp upon the little plot of land, dismounting as you unpacked the little rucksack you carried. You set up a small tent with a mat on the inside for a buffer against the hard ground and some furs for warmth. 

You spent the next few minutes gathering wood for a humble fire, completely ignoring Johnny until the thing was built - then you spoke as you dusted your hands off on your worn denim. 

“I’d be a damned fool if I took that bet.” You said as you looked over at him, the mischievous glint in his eyes doing little to ease your nerves. “Reckon I won’t get much sleep tonight on account of makin’ sure you stay put.” You grumbled to yourself as you practically dragged him off of the horse, setting him in front of the fire before he could complain about being cold. 

Johnny chuckled at your wariness. “No need to fret sheriff, I ain’t goin anywhere.” He said with a wink before he shifted into a more comfortable position, eyeing the flickering flame.

“Must get lonely out here though. Never thought I’d say this, but I’d offer you some company.” His grin returned, flecks of gold in his eyes as he gazed over at you from where he sat, his eyes holding something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“We bounty men gotta stick together after all. Who else understands the thrill of the chase, hm?”

He leaned forward, closing in on your space as his voice turned low, “and between you and me, I’ve had my sights set on a certain lawman for a while now. Why do you think I keep letting you catch me?” He winked. 

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling warm in places the fire couldn’t have reached. Damn scoundrel was playing games with your head, same as he did to escape time and time again. But part of you found yourself intrigued at his new tactic, despite your better judgment.  

You wrote off his words as deception, an attempt to get your guard down just enough so he could run off in the middle of the night with everything you owned. 

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, adjusting your pants as you turned your attention back to the fire to hide your blush; hoping he would right off your red face as a result of the fire burning bright in front of you. 

“You’re bad at hidin’ your intentions. No wonder ya get caught so often, you’re a terrible liar.” You said with a roll of your eyes, trying as hard as you could to ignore the temptation and desire slowly building in the deep pit of your stomach. 

You and Johnny had always had this strange sort of relationship. He would tell you sweet nothings, his face so honest and true you couldn’t help but believe him only for him to run off the second he saw an opportunity. Though you always crossed paths again, and he always assured he meant what he said.

You knew it was wrong to feel this way about a man of his stature, and you hated your body for betraying your mind. The desire in you slowly turning into sick guilt at the feeling of being physically attracted to a man you were supposed to be capturing, and likely sending to his death should you turn him in. For what crimes committed you couldn’t rightly say. 

Johnny chuckled once again, not missing the slight flush creeping up your neck towards your ears. “Now now sheriff, no need to be coy. Ain’t no crime in finding a fella agreeable.”

He shifted his bound wrists, leaning ever closer so his words were for your ears alone. “And to be honest, I’ve yet to meet a man as cunning and determined as yourself. It’s…inspiring” His breath was warm against your skin, lips barely inches from your own. Fear and desire warred within - this outlaw could ruin you with a single move. And yet…out here in the whispering dark, titles and duties seemed so far away and futile. 

Johnny searched your gaze, smile fading to something hungrier, questioning. After so long chasing each other’s shadows, what would happen if one of you stopped running, just for a moment?

The fire crackled lower as stars emerged unseen above trees. Anything could happen…if you would just let it.

Your own eyes were blown wide as he leaned in ever closer, sharing the same air as you gazed into his eyes. You wanted to believe his words, and you wanted to give into your instincts. No. You couldn’t, you had to convince yourself this was just an issue of forced proximity. So pent up from a job you couldn’t catch a break from that you got hot and bothered at the sight of an attractive man. You were better than your instincts, you had to believe that. 

You cleared your throat as you leaned away from him, shaking your head as your eyebrows furrowed while a new sort of feeling filled you - hurt. You weren’t sure why this new emotion popped up, but it did. You wanted to be seen as more than just a means to an end, but you knew this life didn’t offer much of that. Everyone was always going to be more worried about their own skin, and maybe you should take their lead. 

“M’ not gonna be something you use just to get away. Nor will I be a one night stand.” You grumbled, words firm and sure as you mindlessly poked the fire with a nearby stick as a way to distract yourself from the current situation. 

Johnny sat back with a sigh, watching your restless stoking of the flames. Clearly this situation stirred more within you than you cared to show. And he understood - to give in would risk everything, for the both of you. 

“Hey now…” He said softly as his gaze turned tender “I meant no disrespect.” His tone was gentle now, earnest in the firelight. “Fact is, I’ve never met a man like you. There’s something about you that intrigues me, lawman. Something worth riskin’ it all for, if you’d have me” 

He held your gaze steadily, searching. After so long running wild, the idea of settling…It didn’t scare him half as much as he thought. Not if it was with you. 

Johnny smiled faintly. “What do you say we grab this here bounty in the morn, head into town as partners? I’m willing to turn a new leaf, if you’ll vouch for me.” 

The offer hung between you, heavy with promise. A chance at something real. It was all your call.  

You thought about your options, finally landing on something you deemed not quite illegal. With steady hands you grabbed a knife from your pocket, taking his bound hands in one of your own while the other used the blade to carefully saw through the thick rope. 

The binds fell away to the wind, and you set the knife to rest on the dirt as you gently massaged the indented skin, unwilling to let go of his warm hands just yet. 

You pulled away to look over at the small town barely a mile away, a big wooden saloon sign catching your eye. “I need a drink anyway.” You said simply as you both made the short trek over.

It was hours later when you finally got back to camp, alcohol still buzzing in your system just enough to give you confidence as you clung onto each other life life depended on it, lips clashing in a heated kiss as you moaned against him, addicted to the feeling of Johnny’s hands on your waist - desperate to keep you pressed against him. 

Johnny grinned against your lips, heart soaring like it hadn’t in years. Finally free in more ways than one, and with the most interesting man he’d ever known no less. 

“Sheriff…” he murmured, guiding you down into the soft grass as hands roamed, learning your shape in the pale moonlight. No need for words now - just sensation and freedom, two men chasing a different kind of high. 

Clothes were discarded in haste, bare flesh reveling in the cool air and fiery touches. Johnny looked down at you with hunger, a longing, he’d never allowed himself to feel fully before this night. 

“Tell me what you want darlin’,” He breathed against your neck, nipping softly at tender skin. Your hands in his hair urged him closer still, the ache inside building swiftly with the need to be inside you. 

You arched into his touch, a whine leaving your lips as his hands roamed against sensitive skin. It wasn’t often you were under someone like this, so vulnerable and splayed out for all of him to see. 

“Johnny~” You gasped, desperate for some sort of friction as you rolled your hips up to meet his own. 

“You- just want you. Please…need you to - to make me yours~” You were begging, frantic hands keeping him close as you waited with mock patience for what you wanted Hips wiggled in anticipation as you looked down to where your bodies were so nearly joined, only needing a slight push from Johnny to come together as one. 

Johnny growled low at your plea, all thoughts fleeing save the primal need to claim and be claimed in return. 

“Fuck, baby. Whatever you want~” He rumbled, grasping your hips to still them. With a slow roll of his own and careful aiming, he teased your entrance with his aching length. Your gasp spurred him onwards, sinking in to the hilt with shuddering care. 

Pausing the savor the connection, Johnny saw stars behind his eyes. You felt so unbelievably right wrapped around him, guiding his rough edges into a smooth whole. 

Bracing above, he gazed down at your blissed out expression and swore then and there - come hell or high water, nothing would rend him from your side again. You belonged to each other, body and soul, and may the devil himself try to tear you apart. 

With that vow sealed in his blood, Johnny began to move with near excruciating patience, learning your responses like familiar paths once trekked long ago. 

“Mmf~!” You moaned, words escaping you at the feeling of being filled so entirely, nearly cumming as soon as he entered, hard member pressing down in you deep enough to make you feel utterly full. 

“Fuck! so - shit - so fucking big Johnny!”  You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him impossibly closer as you began to rock your hips in time with his thrusts, trying to urge him to go faster. 

“Please - please move I can’t- Need you to move-!” You begged, your own hard cock leaking precum against your stomach as you waited impatiently for him to bend to your pleas. 

Johnny groaned at your words, beyond thrilled you found his size so pleasing already. “Anythin’ for you, darlin’,” he grit out, pulling back slowly before snapping his hips forward in a deep thrust. 

That first rollick sent sparks shooting through his veins, your walls clasping him in exquisite heat. Johnny set a punishing pace from there, driving into your willing body like a man possessed. All that built up want and denial over your respective chases came flooding out in each meeting of skin. 

Reaching between you, he grasped your aching member, pumping in rhythm with his thrusts. Johnny wanted you unraveling completely beneath him, marked inside and out as truly his. 

“Come on now honey, let go for me,” he urged roughly, angling for that spot deep within. 

His balls drew tight with the promise of release, but Johnny wouldn’t dare finish before you. No, he was going to milk you for all you were worth before he even thought about his own release, tying your pleasure irrevocably to his own.

You gasped at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, eyes nearly rolling back as your body moved with every harsh pound into you, mind going dumb on his cock. Though you wouldn't ask for anything better, the feeling consumed you entirely, pleasure taking over everything as you felt that familiar coil in your stomach start to tighten further and further until-

With a soft cry you came, body shaking as your spend landed across both of your bodies. Your legs tightened around his waist, desperate to keep inside for a while longer, almost crying at the thought of him pulling out of you so quickly. You wanted to spend the entire night wrapped in him like this.

Johnny groaned at your reaction, grinding his hips through your release to prolong your pleasure. The way you clung to him so wantonly with shaking legs stole what little breath he had left. 

“So responsive already, darlin’. I ain’t done with you yet - don’t worry your pretty little head~” He rasped, uncaring of the mess you were creating. With sloppy rolls he rode out your aftershocks, cock throbbing at your fluttering insides. 

But you begged for more like the insatiable creature he knew you to be. Johnny wasted no time obeying, moving your legs so he could pull you up into his lap, pistoning up into that sweet spot with no mercy. His orgasm teetered on the edge, held back only by sheer force of will. Johnny latched onto your neck, sucking a sore mark to match the pulse beating erratically beneath his lips. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. Ya feel so damn good takin’ my cock. Gonna fuck another load outta you ‘fore I’m done, you hear?”

His fingers returned unbidden to your sensitive length, determined to wring every last shiver from your overstimulated form beneath the glory of the moon. Johnny wanted this night - wanted you - to last as long as fate allowed. Let the dawn take care of itself for once. 

His words did little to quell the burning lust building up inside of you once more, a whiny moan leaving you as your second orgasm of the night rippled through you, this time merely dribbling out of your tip. 

“God- fuck Johnny!” You whined “So good- so so good inside me. Can’t even can’t even think right!” You babbled, practically drooling as you held on tight to him fingernails no doubt leaving scratches along his body. 

“Need you to cum in me - nice and deep and- and make me yours~” You begged, rocking your hips against his. 

Johnny growled deep at your pleasure cries, all sense of restrain utterly vanished in the throes of lustful abandon. 

“Anythin’ you want, darlin’, gon’ fill that tight hole up just how you want,” he grit out through clenched teeth. A few final brutal thrusts was all it took, his release exploding within your clasping heat with a drawn out groan. 

Wave after wave pulsed from his cock, painting your velvety walls white inside and out. Johnny held you flush, grinding through the bliss to be certain not a drop was spared between your bodies. 

As his throes eased, Johnny pressed loving kisses to your sweat-slick brow, nose nuzzling sweetly against your own. “You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, cock still twitching inside its paradise. 

Johnny adjusted your sated form to cradle properly in his lap, breath coming fast yet deep with afterglow. One hand stroked gently through your hair while the other rubbed your sated length, reluctant to part so soon. 

His sweet words clouded your brain, fuzz covering everything logical as a pleasured haze took over. 

With a weak whine you came for one final time, panting softly as he removed his hand and allowed you to just rest against him. Your body was completely lax in his arms, lingering pleasures twitching inside you still. With another whine you cuddled into him, sweat turning cold on your skin as you sought out his body heat to keep you warm. 

“Don’t leave…” You whispered, the aftermath hitting you hard, body and mind falling together. “Don’t leave me again” you begged, voice shaky as you clung onto him. 

Johnny held you tighter at your whispers, heart near bursting at the confessed sentiment. 

“Never, darlin’, I ain’t goin’ nowhere without you,” he vowed softly into your hair, peppering it with gentle kisses. His hand rose to cup your face, urging your glazed eyes to meet his own smoldering gaze. 

“You’re stuck with me now, ya hear? I’d follow you into hell itself for another taste of heaven like this.” Johnny chuckled lightly even as deep emotion welled in his chest. 

“We’ll face tomorrow together, you and me against the world. Anyone tries to tear us apart will get a bullet quicker than they can blink.” He held your eyes steadily, willing you to see the sincerity in his soul. 

“I love you, little sheriff. Now and always, till my dying day.” With that Johnny sealed the oath with a tender kiss, Pouring every unspoken feeling into action. Nothing would part you from this moment, from him, ever again if he had any say. 

Now yours completely, he guided your limp form to rest atop his chest as blankets of stars looked on. Whatever dreams may come, for tonight there was only peace in each other’s arms at long last. 

~end

As always, requests are open

[noobsoconfusing]

‘twin fantasy’_hamzahthefantastic

summary: just when hamzah thought he finally had a solid situation with you, the overwhelming feelings of being loved for the first time catch you, drown you.

angst, internet situationship au, hamzah being himself, kinda codependency, awkward, avoidant attachment issues.

>_<

if hamzah could describe the feeling of loneliness mixed with whatever the fuck being in love meant in only one word, it would reduce simply to: you.

it was the way your eyes glitched when you blinked in front of your low quality web cam, or maybe how you typed when you were in a hurry, always reminding yourself to maybe, just maybe, type something nicer so he didn’t feel like he was the problem.

so, as he stares directly at his phone screen, his eyes itchy and irritated from waiting to see you online, he decides to quickly type something to catch your attention.

hamzahthefantastic: the other night i cried while thinking of having sex with you

and so he waits. and waits, and waits.

the green dot next to your contact name appears and he cringes at himself for letting out an audible shriek of excitement.

y/n: hamzah!!!!

y/n: fr?

he smiles, shaking his head because yeah, it was for real, but also because he had gotten what he wanted. your attention.

hamzahthefantastic: lol. maybe. yeah. i dunno

hamzahthefantastic: wanna facetime?

y/n: hold on i’ll call you :)

>_<

silence. comforting moments between hazy stares and timid laughter. hamzah enjoyed this.

“your room is messy again, y/n” he mentions, peeking as much as he can from the position your webcam is in.

“yeah, i haven’t really got time to clean up… but yours is messy too!” you point, the camera glitches at your sudden loud voice.

“living alone kinda sucks, you know? at least i had my room clean when i lived with my parents, a warm plate of food too, and even allowance money!” he rolled his eyes, and you nodded.

hamzah and you had been friends ever since he lived with his parents, so you got to see the whole process of him moving to a different city, and you were there for him when he got his first place, and then his first job, and his first pets, and so on..

your heart wrenched when you realised you had lived a whole damn life by his side, however, behind a screen.

“wish i could live with you, hamzah..” you quietly say, hoping he doesn’t catch on, but he does, used to your quiet demeanour.

“me too, y/n.” a glitchy smile appears from his side of the screen, and you copy it.

and god, you love his smile. it’s so weird, so odd how the smile and physical happiness of someone that lives yet so far away from you can infect you with such joy. disgusting feelings arise from your stomach.

stupid fucking love and stupid fucking damned distance!

“for real? like, for ‘for real?” your voice shakes.

he nods with seriousness invading his face. “hell yeah, for real. i’d love to live with you, in fact, i do feel like i live with you even now, you know? we talk ever day, i see your face every- well, not every day, but enough to keep me going for the week!” he smiled, referring to those times you didn’t feel good enough to facetime, so he settled for texting, which made him equally happy.

“oh man…” you mutter. feelings enough, so damn enough. you don’t know what to do with your mind, and you don’t know why it’s racing so fast, imagining billions of scenarios.

he notices your manners. hamzah suddenly becomes self aware. scared he has said something wrong.

“are you-?”

“i love you.” you quickly cut him off, its not your intention though, just the lag delaying your confession.

confession that has already been confessed plenty of times.

“hey! i love you too!” as his soul finds its way back into his body, hamzah admits. joy suddenly running through his body like gasoline and fire consuming a wreck.

silence. you look up to stare at his pixelated frame. and he’s so beautiful. and you think this is all a damn dream.

“but do you like me?” the undertone of your sore voice makes its way throughout your sentence, betraying you.

he tilts his head like a confused puppy. you bite back a tiny smile.

“what do you mean? why are you asking that? do you not think i like you?” hey asks, confused and aching for a quick response.

you think a bit, not even knowing what you meant by that stupid question.

“nevermind, hah! it’s nonsense, really…” you try to sound convincing.

for your misfortune, hamzah knows you way better than you think.

“not nonsense, something is bugging you and i can tell.” he adjusts his headphones as he says that, trying to get a better listen at your reply.

“you.”

hamzah furrows his eyebrows at your quick answer.

“huh?”

“it bugs me that i am always thinking of you, that’s my issue, yeah?” you say, a bit more loose, “i always think about how amazing and how wonderful it wouldve been being your neighbour or your friend from school, but no, i am stuck here a thousand and a million more miles away from you and i can’t do anything to cut the distance short.” you sigh.

hamzah bites his lower lip, and he thinks, oh, how a thought you must have been saving for a long time also affects him in severe ways. he thinks the same.

“you know, y/n? i don’t think it was, you know, the amazing casualties of life that made us end up talking to each other until four in the fucking morning. you know what i think? that you were actually made for me.” he shrugs his shoulders and tries to put on a smile for you, even though he wishes he could just cry…or something.

“right.” you sigh. “hamzah, i just… i feel like my whole life revolves around you, is that weird? like, i wake up and see if you texted me while i was asleep. then i go about my day and still think about you, and then when you text me i just.. drop everything else to spend time with you.” you try to avoid the camera, or his gaze. “do you think that’s weird? am i weird?”

your face drops as he bursts out laughing.

“no! not weird at all, y/n! you see, i- okay, i do the same… you’re so pretty, inside and outside and you’re so thoughtful and so kind and beautiful and just… yourself, that i find myself thinking about you and your antics for hours, if not the whole day!” he lets out a deep sigh of satisfaction, shaking his head with a smile because letting all of his emotions out felt so fucking great.

“you’re so weird, so dumb…” you smile, even if you feel like your eyes are about to shed waterfalls of tears.

“we can be weird.” he adds. “it’s only cool if we’re both weird.” his voice is soft and low just like always. so genuine.

“right, yeah.” you smile too.

hamzah can’t help but secretly take a picture of your face, the dim lighting of your room accentuates your features perfectly and he finds himself more and more invested in you.

“yeah, right..”

>_<

hamzah’s voice fills your ears in a soothing manner.

while you carefully listen, you can’t help but dissociate from reality. your mind occupied in something you can’t really comprehend.

“…a video, like in a youtube channel, do you think that’s a good idea?” his voice slowly becomes more present, and you snap your head to his direction. “are you there…?”

“yeah, sorry, just mind fog, hah!” you reply forcing a smile.

“alright, are you okay? have you eaten today? do you wanna end the call so you can sleep?” hamzah asks and you feel a little bit dizzy from all the questions that come out of his mouth.

“yeah- no! i am fine, what were you saying about a video on youtube?” you quickly try to bring the focus to him again.

hamzah frowns so quickly that you think it’s a glitch. but he smiles right away.

“i was saying, i was thinking about posting something on youtube.” he repeats. “you think that’s a good idea?” you come to realise how hamzah always asks for your opinion, always seeking your approval.

you nod. “yeah, i think it’d be really cool, maybe you’ll get famous one day!”

his laugh fills your heart, and makes you flash a smile too.

“nah, i don’t think so, it’ll be just for fun, just to kill time, i kinda need a distraction from thinking ‘bout you all day, right?” he says.

and what he said, keeps playing in your mind for a while.

distraction. from you.

“yeah, cool!”

and you try your best to keep track of the conversation, but you’ve been so tired.

so tired.

not sleepy, somehow. just so, so fucking tired.

>_<

your surprised face comes up to the screen as this time he is wearing a grey hoodie, different from the black one he always uses.

“cute. you look like… well, something cute!” he says making the screen bigger so he can see you better.

“why?” you laugh, “something?”

“yeah, something. you know, you’re so unique i can’t even describe you or compare you to anything. i love you a lot, y/n…”

stop. please. stop.

you think. the feeling of need inside your chest hurts and burns after every word he says. after every sentence. everything reminds you that he’s so far away, that you are probably never going to touch him. never feel him.

and the screen is so cold and so hard and so lifeless, and you wonder, how can something inanimate hold your biggest desire inside? how can hamzah live inside your device? how can it hold so much meaning inside its metallic shell?

“i love you.” you bluntly say. “i love you so much it hurts and i wish you could make it stop hurting so fucking bad.” a desperate laugh erupts from your throat, one that screams for help.

“oh, baby, i wish i could hold you so close. never gonna let you go once i have you here with me, alright? im gonna glue your body to mine and we will just have to live like that…” an exaggerated version of his deep fantasy came out, but still, he was very much serious.

“sounds good.” you reply.

“fuck yeah it does” he sighs, but not defeated, just full of hope. one of you had to be hopeful, right?

“fuck yeah…” you repeated, mind fog attacking you once again.

>_<

his grey hoodie on again, and you start to think he hasn’t washed it in the full week that has passed.

it’s alright though, you love him that way.

“i keep having these… dreams about you” he says. “odd dreams, not nightmares though, just weird dreams”

“me too.” you say. the guilt of the neediness inside your tummy makes its way to your brain. eating you up.

“what about?” hamzah asks, more invested now that he knows you dream about him too.

“you first.” you deadpan.

“fantasies. really fucking good fantasies, though.”

“about?” you ask again.

“sex and… whatnot.” oh. he’s so serious and so direct and so honest.

you can’t hide your surprise, nor the blush that creeps up to your cheeks.

“oh, i guess… me too.” and your voice shakes because it’s so odd to say this out loud.

“i don’t know. im so used to you, i just imagine whats like to… well, be with you. and touch you and just feel your body against mine.”

“sometimes i feel like i crave a touch i’ve never felt before. how can i yearn for something i have never tasted?” you ask, and he opens his eyes, already wide.

“yeah, i feel the same.”

“need you, though. very badly.” a deep feeling of emptiness swallows you up. how can your bed be so empty yet you’re laying on it? how can hamzah be your twin fantasy yet he’s so far away?

“i wanna be inside you, just feel you and melt over your body and maybe then, i’ll feel complete.” hamzah has a hard time expressing his emotions with coherent thoughts, but this time you understand him completely.

>_<

it’s been minutes. and you are about to freaking win the contest. again. like the last four times.

hamzah’s eyes are red even over the bad quality camera he’s using. “y/n! please just let me win this time!” he begs, his eyes squinting. he struggles to keep them open.

and you’re perfectly fine, nonchalant even. but as you see his struggle, you give in.

“fine!”

you blink. tears fall down your cheeks from how dry your poor eyes were. you laugh.

“finally!” he celebrates. “oh god, thought i was going blind…”

“well, we’ve been on call for like five hours, the screen is gonna make us blind sooner than later” you laugh, and he does too.

“i just like talking to you.” he admits and you swear you can see a slight red tint adorning his face. he’s so adorable.

stupidly adorable. your heart aches.

“i like it too.”

you loved it, actually.

did you?

>_<

that damned grey hoodie again. and you think, it’s the third consecutive time that week.

you, however, just despised the way he looked absolutely fucking stunning in it. as if he knew it did things to you.

“what are we?” you ask, breaking the comfortable silence that surrounded you both.

you tended to do assignments together on call, sometimes he knew things you didn’t and he helped you, and viceversa.

“i am hamzah, you’re y/n and you’re my everything.” he replied, still focusing on his excel sheet.

“but what are we?” a situationship. that was it. hamzah would constantly call you pet names and tell you how much he loves you, and then drop the most horny messages about you.

“we are everything, i just said”

“that’s not an answer, hamzah, what are we? like, are we best friends, friends, lovers, or just people who talk to each other about their deepest secrets and feelings?” you closed your powerpoint and stared at the webcam.

“you’re everything to me, right? all of the above, every option, you are.” he said, still focusing on his work but at the same time on you.

silence again.

you nodded. a smile forming on your face.

“everything, then.”

>_<

your cheeks flushed at his words, you were a second away from turning your camera off from how embarrassed you were.

“you want- hamzah! you wanna what!?” you put a hand over your mouth in a surprised expression.

he laughs.

“i said i wanna fuck you, i just said!” he repeated himself, a smirk plastered on his face.

“why would you say that?” you laughed.

“because you were sad and i wanted to cheer you up!” he held his hands up in defence, his screen lagged at the sudden movement. “i’d rather have you happy than sad!”

“now im sad and flustered…” your hands went up to your cheeks, just to feel the warmth that spread across.

“hey, that’s better than sad alone.”

“you’re so dumb!”

>_<

handling your emotions was something you never knew about. and hamzah seemed to be so down to earth about what he wanted, about what he felt, that you couldn’t help but feel left behind in the emotional management area.

“gonna call it a night, im really tired, hamzah.” you said, a yawn escaping your mouth.

“oww, but- but it’s only been three hours..” his big puppy eyes stare at you, and you beat yourself up when you look at his sad face.

stop. stop!

“sorry…” you apologise. “we’ve been talking all week and i’ve been staying up till late the whole week too, we can chat during the day, though.”

he frowns but nods at the same time.

“fair, love you, have a good night!” he waves, waiting for you to say you love him back.

“good night, hamzah!” you smile, ready to end the call, but before you do so, he quickly yells;

“i said i love you…” his hopeful eyes dance across the screen, darting from your own to the smaller square with his face in it.

you pause for a moment. swallow and blink.

“oh, yeah, me too!” and there it was. your stupid feelings ruining everything.

his face drops, but somehow manages to keep a small smile. “alright, love you more, see you tomorrow?”

“yeah.”

and as if it was a race, you rush to press the ‘end call’ button.

your head spinning had you dizzy, so you throw the phone away and lay on your bed. hamzah is all you can think about.

it was like a self defence thing that was, at the same time, self destructive. you had to run away from him, you had to stop your heart from being broken. though, you didn’t think hamzah could hurt you. it was all so confusing! so dumb!

>_<

early hours of the morning, and you are not even fully awake when your phone starts buzzing from the other side of the room.

you rub your sore eyes and groan. every time you woke up it felt like an accomplishment. it was such a struggle, you just wanted your bed to swallow you.

hamzahthefantastic: good morning :D

hamzahthefantastic: kinda went to sleep with a tiny little concern last night…..

hamzahthefantastic: are you mad at me?

the last thing you wanted was to make him upset, however, there was a certain part of his whole attention and sort of devotion –to you– that made you upset.

y/n: gm!

y/n: im not mad at you

hamzahthefantastic: for real?

hamzahthefantastic: you seemed upset last night, kinda zoned out idk

y/n: just tired ngl

hamzahthefantastic: alr it’s fine dw

hamzahthefantastic: i love you a lot y/n

hamzahthefantastic: have a good day today yeah? get some rest, make sure to eat PROPER food, and also don’t forget that i love you :)

you stared at his texts for a little too long, then locked your phone. then unlocked it again. stared some more and then bit your lip, thinking of a reply.

hamzah. yeah. you loved him! how could you not? you had been fixated on him since you two met. why, then, the feelings of overwhelming love now creeped into your brain like flesh eating amoeba?

y/n: ily too!

you frowned. the text was so dry.

y/n: <3

better.

and the reason?, simple. hamzah’s love felt like it was tearing you apart. suffocating you. nobody had ever loved you, or showed remote interest in you like hamzah did.

was he too much? no. you shook your head, thinking then, maybe, you were not enough.

your phone buzzed, and you knew it was him. but you couldn’t get to check.

>_<

per usual, at the end of the day, your routine of facetiming had to be completed. hamzah took his phone and typed a message for you.

hamzahthefantastic: hey! wanna facetime?

hamzahthefantastic: could use to hear your voice :) been thinking ‘bout u all day

11 minutes passed. no response from you.

hamzahthefantastic: helloooooooo

hamzahthefantastic: :( are you there?

hamzahthefantastic: is it ok if i call you?

hamzahthefantastic: miss you y/n

hamzahthefantastic: did i do anything wrong? please call when u see this alr?

hamzah waited. and waited. and waited some more. almost how he waited for you to reply after sending a weird message. this time though, something inside his gut felt different.

it felt like he had fucked something up. ruined whatever the fuck he had going on with you. a something that meant so much, only so much to him.

he was confused.

>_<

waiting felt like skinning himself alive.

like trying to dissect his own heart while it was still beating. beating hard. beating for you.

he opened his chat with you, the only chat he had pinned. hamzah scrolled through all the unread messages he had sent to you, and they seemed uncountable.

no reply. it’s been days.

he sighed. twin fantasy feeling like a fantasy he was only living by himself all along. were you even real?

hamzah couldn’t get himself to doubt you.

>_<

hamzah’s heart clenched. he stared at his messy room, at how the plates piled up on his night table, at how he had your chat open on his laptop to see if you got online any time soon.

he felt like a loser.

>_<

days became weeks. and weeks became a month. and a month was something so long in hamzah-time.

and he still held on.

however, he decided to type out something for you again. just as he did daily.

hamzahthefantastic: hey y/n, hi. how’s everything going? you know, i miss you a lot. more than i can take. and i miss your voice and your face. and most importantly i miss your company. it’s okay, though. i am hoping one day we can reunite, i secretly know this is one of your plans to make me want you even more -_- …but baby, please just come back, yeah? i feel so weird and out of place if you’re not here. i wonder if you’re lonely and i wish i could touch you so i just touch my screen. does that make me a loser? i love you so much, i hope you know that. hurts when you don’t reply, and hurts more realising you probably never will again. please be okay. i love you a lot. and i am sort of tearing up right now, does that make me a loser too? ily

ps. thank you for being my best friend and my best everything (you’re literally my life though) i’ll wait as long as you need!

ps2. i’ll try tomorrow, maybe you’ll be online by then

ps3. i still fantasise about you!

silly, he thought. a loser, a hopeless romantic living so far away from his muse. just a twin flame dancing on his own, by now.

a twin fantasy lived through the eyes of one, only.

>_<

sorry i took so long and sorry this is proper shit. i wanted an excuse to write something other than fluff or smut. i hope you ppl like dis one! (my shitty take at angst) raise ur hand if this ever happened to u totally not based on a true story

[lcvclywon]

the waves and evening air

back to masterlist

synopsis .ᐟ When you and your best friend Jungwon get stranded on the beach, it might be a bigger blessing than you realise

warnings: mentions of food, denied feelings, fluff fluff fluff, not anything I can think of rn!

genre ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ; best friends to lovers

parings: best friend!Jungwon x best friend!female reader

wc ˖° around 1.2k ^^

thoughts frm yuya 💭 this was definitelyyyy based off that one scene from reply 1988 where taek and deoksun get stranded at the beach bc that's my comfort drama ^^ also thank you to my pookie @wonfilms for helping me conjure this up at 2 am, wrote this for u elle fr ><

“This is all your fault!” you cried out while slightly pushing Jungwon to the side (to which his stance sadly did not falter). To give some context, Jungwon had stupidly convinced you to stay just a little bit longer at the beach in hopes to find a few more seashells he could keep as souveniers. Which then resulted in you two missing the bus back home, meaning you would have to wait for next bus. Unfortunately said bus would only come at 8pm that night, meaning you had around 3 hours to kill. 

“Hey! It’s not that bad. At least we got cute seashells,” Jungwon defended as you two walked away from the bus stop defeatedly “, and I’d say three hours goes by quick if you have fun!” You turned to his face which had a grin plastered across to accompany his hopelessly optimistic attitude. 

“Yeah and how do you suppose we do that, we already did like 99% of the activities they have to do at this place.” you grumbled whilst kicking at small pebbles in your way as you walked 

“Uh well…” Jungwon said before scanning around the boardwalk to see if there were any shops that you’d haven’t been to yet. Suddenly catching something from the corner of his eye his head perked up before exclaiming “Hey shaved ice! We haven’t had that yet, and besides you need a refreshment.”

“I guess…” you grumbled under your breath before Jungwon started forcefully dragging your body to the shaved ice shop. Eyes glistening with hope and steps fueled with determination. 

“Hello! Uhm could we have two orders of shaved ice: one mango and one strawberry! Oh um both small sizes please, thank you.” you envied how no matter the situation, Jungwon’s voice always managed to come out calm and cheery. You also always caught onto how Jungwon knew your favourite flavours by heart, despite never telling him outwardly how much you loved mangos.

Shaved ice in hand you both made your way down near the sand to sit and watch the waves. Jungwon had mentioned earlier he hoped to catch the sunset with you before leaving, guess he got his wish you thought to yourself. You both sat in a comfortable silence while enjoying your desserts, letting the gentle sounds of the waves fill your ears. 

“Hey is yours any good?” Jungwon asked breaking the silence 

“Oh, yeah it’s good!” you said before scooping out a spoon of shaved ice for yourself. However before you could get to even enjoying the sweet treat Jungwon’s head dipped down and stole the bite you had crafted for himself, smirking before responding with a sly “Hm, it is good.” 

You nudged him slightly before whining out “Hey, that bite was for me!” 

In response Jungwon scooped out a spoonful of his shaved ice; moving the spoon closer to your mouth with a hand under to catch anything that might fall, uttering a small and simple “ahh” 

Despite the blush forming across your cheeks you moved your head forward to accept his offer, the sweet strawberry flavour melting on your mouth leaving you with a satisfied smile. You have to admit, shaved ice wasn’t a horrible idea. Leaning back into your chair you sighed out, eyes wandering to the oceans waves moving back and forth with the tide, a gentle smile forming across you face. One that Jungwon seemed to notice. 

“What’s on your mind hm?” he asked before spooning a mouthful of shaved ice into his mouth and tilting his head to face you. How did he always catch on to the small things? 

“Hm? Oh nothing, just you know-” you answered while poking at your somewhat melted dessert “this is, nice…”

“Told you so.” Jungwon joked with a smug grin, elbowing you playfully. 

“Nevermind, I take it all back, worst idea ever.” you deadpanned before turning away from him slightly. 

“Kidding kidding!” he said whilst wrapping his hand around you wrist to pull you closer. God he had to stop making your heart flutter.

Suddenly a huge gust of wind blew in your direction, the bitter cold causing shivers to run down your body. Immediately your hands reached to your sides to rub them and hopefully generate some warmth, which Jungwon once again seemed to notice. 

Without a word he unzipped his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. Looking up in startled, you cocked your head to the side with a confused look glazing your eyes. He simply flashed a small knowing smile in response, was his smile always this pretty? 

As the sun set darkness quickly engulfed the beach which led you two to heading into a small restaurant to enjoy a warm bowl of hot pot. You sat peacefully enjoying your warm bowl of soup whilst jungwon poured a bit more into your bowl. Glancing up you muttered out a small thank you in between bites. 

Shortly after the old woman who had been serving your table and running the restaurant came up to you two asking “Would you and your girlfriend like more soup?” 

You choked slightly on your fishcake before rushing to deny that you two were dating, however Jungwon seemed to be quicker. 

“No we’re just finishing up! Thank you though, must be hard running this place yourself” he replied politely 

“Oh it’s no trouble! What a gentleman you are, I’ll go and get your check then. You kids enjoy the meal” she cooed before heading off to the back. 

You stared at Jungwon with puzzled eyes and mouth slightly agape before uttering “Girlfriend?” 

“No point in correcting her right? Eat, eat…” he responded nonchalantly before spooning the remaining bits of fishcake into your bowl. What did he mean by that? You tried to brush it off and continued eating, but you couldn’t lie that it remained in the back of your mind even while riding the bus back home. 

“I mean there kinda was a point.” you said out of the blue, obviously throwing Jungwon off guard a bit. 

“Hm, what do you mean?” his face resembling confused kitten as he tilted his head to the side

“I mean, we aren’t dating. So there kinda was a point in correcting her” you reached for the hem of your skirt twiddling with it slightly.

“I mean we might as well be right?” Jungwon answered before lacing your hand with his. A bright blush formed across your face when you registered what he just said. What? 

“So does that mean…” you asked expectantly, trailing off as you were too embarrassed to finish your question.

“It means exactly what you think it means.” Jungwon replied before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand “Why’d you think I made you stay and collect seashells? Obviously I don’t like seashells that much YN, I just wanted to keep hanging out with you.” 

“Well it worked, today was great” you giggled out before yawning 

“Are you sleepy?” Jungwon questioned attentively 

“Hm just a bit…” you commented, feeling your eyelids begin to become heavier. 

Before you could do anything Jungwon moved your head to rest on his shoulder before muttering a small “Sleep on me, I don’t mind” 

You happily accepted his request, before drifting off into a peaceful slumber. A smile painted across your face, a smile you trusted you could always have with Jungwon. 

Maybe missing the bus was worth it

[03jyh23]

🫀⌇enamored┆choi jongho (fluff? version)

jongho x tattoo-artist!reader

│synopsis: the tattoo appointment turns unexpectedly intimate when jongho offers you, a drenched tattoo artist, his hoodie

│genre: fluff, sugestive

│trigger warnings: physical touch/intimacy, mild sexual tension, embarrassment, pain (tattoo process)

│words: 4.8k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

│the requested prompt is bold

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! i had so much fun writing this one! it was a request for drabble yet i couldn't help myself but write a fuller story. this one is slightly more sfw than the smut version that will be published soon! hope you will enjoy it! I LOVE WRITING JONGHO FR

thank you for requesting! ♡

love, monika ♡

i’d be so grateful for a little love – a tagged reblog or comment would truly make my day!

You started your day by sleeping through two of your alarms, and you were in a hurry to make it to your appointment. You cursed yourself for scheduling the first client of the day as early as 9 AM, knowing you preferred to sleep till noon rather than wake up at 7:30. The sound of rain pattering against your window only made it harder to leave the warmth of your bed. It was raining heavily, autumn was coming closer, and instead of colorful leaves, the world was grey and rainy. As you rushed through your morning routine, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread for the day ahead. The dark clouds outside mirrored your mood, and the chill in the air made you shiver. You grabbed a quick breakfast—if a hastily made cup of coffee and a piece of toast could be called that—and dashed out the door, umbrella in hand. The streets were slick with rain, and you had to carefully navigate the puddles to avoid soaking your shoes. The wind was stronger than you expected. Halfway through your walk, it broke your umbrella, leaving you drenched in heavy rain. You cursed under your breath and started running, shielding yourself with your bag. Despite your efforts, the rain was relentless, soaking through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. Each step felt like a struggle as you splashed through puddles, your shoes squelching with every move. 

You took the last turn to reach your studio, and to your surprise, it was still closed. You could swear your colleague was supposed to open at 8. As you approached the entrance, you saw a boy waiting outside—a handsome boy at that. He was standing there in a casual, dry outfit (at least his umbrella did its job) —a comfortable hoodie and dark jeans. The hoodie looked soft and warm, perfect for the gloomy weather. His hair was slightly damp, the ends curling adorably near his face. His big, boba eyes darted around, taking in the surroundings with a mix of curiosity and alertness. Despite the rain, he looked effortlessly cute, and you couldn’t help but feel a warm flutter in your chest. The way his hair falls into his eyes and the serene expression on his face all make you pause for a moment, just to take him in. You feel a smile tug at your lips as you watch him, utterly enamored by the sight. 

Finally, you step closer, dripping water with every movement. The boy turns his gaze towards you, and his eyes widen slightly in surprise, "Hi, are you here for an appointment?" you ask, your voice cutting through the sound of the rain around you. 

He nods, a small smile playing on his lips as he responds, "Yes, I am. I think I'm a little early though." Despite the dreary weather, his smile seems to brighten the rainy morning. 

You nod, shivering slightly from the cold and the wetness that has seeped through your clothes. "I'm sorry for this, my colleague was supposed to be here already and welcome you in," you say, feeling embarrassed about the situation. 

Tho boy’s smile widens, and he steps a little closer, offering his umbrella to shield you from the rain. "It's okay, really. I don't mind waiting," he reassures you. His kindness and the simple gesture of sharing his umbrella, made you smile. 

"Thank you," you say, grateful for his thoughtfulness. As you huddle together under the small umbrella, you can't help but feel a little warmer, "I'll let us in," you quickly reach into your bag and pull out the key, unlocking the door to the studio. As you push the door open, the warmth inside immediately contrasts with the cold, damp air outside, and you both step in, grateful to be out of the rain. The sound of the door closing behind you feels like a barrier against the chaos of the morning. You gesture towards the sitting area. "Please, make yourself comfortable," you say, trying to shake off the cold. 

You quickly run to the bathroom, grabbing a towel to dry at least some of the water from your hair. As you pat your hair dry, you glance at your reflection in the mirror, the water droplets clinging stubbornly to your clothes. With a sigh, you do your best to freshen up. After a few moments of trying to get the worst of the dampness out, you return to the main area where the boy is waiting. He still stands near the entrance, looking around the studio with mild curiosity. The cozy interior, with its warm lighting and comfortable furniture, is a stark contrast to the way he imagined a tattoo studio. You approach him with a tentative smile, hoping to make up for the less-than-ideal first impression. "Who are you having an appointment with?" you ask, your voice steadying as you try to regain some sense of normalcy despite the chaotic start to your day. 

Jongho turns his attention back to you, his eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. "I'm here to see Y/N," he replies, his tone polite and friendly. His presence seems to bring a calming effect, making you feel slightly more at ease. 

"Oh, that's me then," you smile at him and offer your hand. "Nice to meet you." 

The boy’s eyes light up, and he takes your hand in a gentle handshake. "Nice to meet you too, I’m Jongho" he replies, his cute, gummy smile widening. The warmth of his hand contrasts with the chill still lingering from your earlier drenching, and you feel a small spark of comfort. 

"I will give you a few papers to fill in, a consent form, and a health questionnaire," you say, reaching for the necessary documents from the desk. You hand them to Jongho with a polite smile, "Please take your time to fill these out. It's important that we have all the necessary information to ensure everything goes smoothly and that I can provide you with the best possible service." 

Jongho nods, taking the papers from you with a grateful smile. "Of course, I'll get started on these right away," he says, moving towards the couch. You watch as he settles in, his expression focused as he begins to fill out the forms. 

You take a moment to catch your breath, the warmth of the studio slowly seeping into your bones and easing the chill from the morning's rain. As you glance around, you notice how Jongho carefully reads each question, his pen moving steadily across the page.  

You smile as you watch him read through the forms. Your regulars usually breeze through the paperwork, filling them out quickly and almost mindlessly. Jongho, on the other hand, seemed to be taking his time, meticulously going over each question. It was a refreshing change of pace, and you couldn't help but be a little amused by his thoroughness. 

"You've never done this before, have you?" you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of amusement. 

Jongho looks up from the papers, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. "Is it that obvious?" he replies, chuckling softly. 

"Just a little bit," you say with a playful grin. "But don't worry, you're in good hands. I love new clients. There's something about watching them squirm in pain that just makes my day," you joke, giving him a teasing wink. "Kidding, of course. I promise to be gentle. Mostly." 

Jongho laughs, the sound warm and genuine and you feel weak in your knees. "Well, that's reassuring," he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'll try not to squirm too much then." 

"Good plan," you reply, still smiling. "But seriously, if you have any questions or concerns, just let me know. I'm here to make sure you have the best experience possible." 

After a while, Jongho looks up from the forms, a puzzled expression on his face. "What's a Release of Liability?" he asks, his brow furrowed in confusion. 

"Oh, it's a form that releases the tattoo artist and studio from liability for any issues that may arise during or after the tattoo process, as long as proper procedures were followed," you explain, your tone reassuring. "It's just a precaution to make sure everyone's on the same page and understands the risks involved." 

Jongho nods slowly, absorbing the information. "Got it. Thanks for explaining," he says and you could hear a hint of relief in his voice. He quickly returns to filling out the forms. 

You decide to search through your cabinets in the hope of finding at least a spare t-shirt when Jongho's voice breaks the silence once again. "Aren't you a bit uncomfortable with those wet clothes?" he asks, concern evident in his tone. 

You pause, looking back at him with a small, embarrassed smile. "Yeah, it's not the most pleasant feeling," you admit, continuing your search. "I'm hoping I left something here that I can change into." 

"You will also be a bit uncomfortable if I start tattooing you like that," you add with a light chuckle, your concern mixed with a touch of humor. 

Jongho looks thoughtful for a moment before standing up and walking over to you, handing you filled out papers. "If you don't mind, I could offer you my hoodie, at least?" He suggests, his tone sincere and considerate. 

You look at him, surprised by his offer. "Are you sure?" you reply, touched by his kindness. 

He smiles (damn, his cheeks look so adorable when he smiles like that), shaking his head. "It's no trouble. Besides, I'm going to have to take it off for the tattoo anyway," he insists, already starting to remove the hoodie. 

"Then I'd be really grateful," you say, your voice soft with appreciation. Jongho takes off his hoodie, and as he does, the hem of his t-shirt gets stuck and rides up a bit, revealing his lower abs. You can't help but glance, feeling a flutter in your stomach at the sight. His toned muscles and smooth skin make you momentarily forget the chill from your wet clothes. Cute and with a hot body, God really does have her favorites.

You quickly avert your gaze, hoping he didn't notice, and take the hoodie from him with a thankful smile. "Thank you, Jongho. This will help a lot," 

He grins, seemingly oblivious to your momentary distraction. "No problem. I'm glad to help," he replies, his eyes warm and friendly as he watches you. 

"Alright, I will change quickly, and we will get started," you say while walking to the bathroom. You took off your drenched shirt and bra, leaving them in the sink, and slipped on Jongho's warm hoodie. His perfume envelops you with its intensity, you sniff it in, and you swear it does something to you. It was almost as if the perfume was made only to ignite a spark within you. You shake this thought off, then you take off your drenched shoes, thankful you had a spare pair of sneakers and shorts—you had left them to have something to change into when you were cleaning the studio. As you put on the dry clothes, you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the warmth from Jongho's hoodie providing much-needed comfort. Once you're dressed, you proceed to your station and start to prepare it for the session. The familiar routine of setting up your tools and arranging the workspace helps to steady your nerves. You glance over at Jongho, who is still seated in the cozy area, his eyes following your movements with quiet curiosity. Something is reassuring about his presence, and you find yourself feeling more at ease. "I usually don't do somebody else's designs," you start the conversation, breaking the silence as you continue to set up your station. "I only tattoo my own, but yours looked too nice to decline. Did you draw it yourself?" 

Jongho looks up, a modest smile forming on his lips. "No, my best friend did. I've always been a fan of his drawings, and I thought it would be meaningful to have something he created permanently inked on me."  

"That's really special," you reply, genuinely touched by the sentiment. "It's always nice to have a personal connection to the artwork. I'm honored to be the one to bring it to life for you." 

Jongho nods appreciatively. "Thank you, it means a lot to me," he says, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. You can't help but wonder whether he's holding an entire galaxy in them.

After your station was set up, you printed out the tattoo stencil and transferred the design onto Jongho's skin. You carefully ensured that the placement and size were to his liking, and he nodded approvingly, a small smile playing on his lips. 

Once satisfied with the stencil, you guided him to a chair. "We are doing this on your arm, so instead of lying down on a bed, I'll ask you to sit down," you explain, gesturing to the chair. Jongho takes his seat, settling in and getting comfortable. "Put your arm here on the armrest and make sure your muscles are relaxed, alright?" You instruct, your voice calm and reassuring as you guide Jongho into position. He follows your directions, placing his arm on the armrest and taking a deep breath to relax. You can see the tension easing out of his body, and you offer him an encouraging smile. "It's important to stay as still and relaxed as possible," you continue, preparing your tools with practiced efficiency. "The more relaxed you are, the smoother the process will be. If you start to feel uncomfortable or need a break, just let me know, okay?" 

Jongho nods, his eyes focused on you with a mix of anticipation and trust. "Got it," he replies, his voice steady. "I'll do my best to stay still." You give him a nod before turning your attention back to your equipment. The familiar routine of setting up your tools and arranging the workspace helps to steady your nerves, and you find a sense of calm in the precision of your movements. 

Glancing back at Jongho, you see that he’s watching you intently, his expression one of quiet curiosity. "Alright, we're ready to start," you say, meeting his gaze. "Remember, if you need anything, just let me know." 

He smiles, a hint of nerves in his eyes but also excitement. "I'm ready."

With that, you begin the process, your focus entirely on bringing the design to life on his skin. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the room and it makes you feel at ease. You glance at Jongho, your eyes filled with concern. "How's the pain?" you ask softly, ensuring your voice carries a tone of genuine care. You know that for many, the first moments of a tattoo can be the most daunting, and you're keen to make sure he's as comfortable as possible. 

Jongho looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a reassuring smile. "It's not too bad," he replies, chuckling lightly. "It's a bit more intense than I expected, but nothing I can't handle." His attempt to stay brave and composed only makes you admire him more. 

You nod, offering him a warm smile. "That's good to hear. But remember, if it gets too much, just let me know, okay? We can take a break anytime."  

Jongho's gaze softens, and he nods appreciatively. "Thanks, I will," he says, his voice sincere.  

As you continue your work, you realize you need to reposition yourself to get a better angle. Leaning down to adjust your position, you inadvertently move closer to Jongho. You get lost in your work again, the hum of the tattoo machine and the rhythm of your movements creating a focused trance. As you glance up at Jongho, you notice his cheeks are flushed with a deep blush. Confused, you follow his gaze downwards and realize, with a sudden jolt, that your chest is pressed against the armrest in such a way that Jongho’s open hand is inadvertently cupping your boob. 

"Oh, it's fine!" you are quick to reassure him, but your voice comes out a bit louder than you expected. "It happens all the time,"  you add more gently, trying to compose yourself.

Despite your attempt to ease the tension, Jongho remains frozen, blinking a couple of times as he processes the situation. His cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red, "I'm so sorry," he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to—" 

You cut him off with a warm smile, hoping to put him at ease. "Really, it's okay," you say, this time your tone light. "These things can happen when you're in such close quarters. No harm done." You look up at him adding, ''Oh, and you can squeeze it if you want," you joke as you lean in again, a playful grin spreading across your face as you try to lift the mood. "I won't charge extra for that." 

Jongho's eyes widen, and he stammers, "N-no, I couldn't! I mean, I didn't mean to—I'm so sorry!" His face turns an even deeper shade of red, and he looks utterly mortified. He quickly averts his gaze, staring at the floor as if it might open and swallow him whole. 

You can't help but chuckle at his reaction, finding his shyness endearing. "It's really okay, Jongho. I was just teasing," you say, your voice gentle and reassuring. "Let's just focus on the tattoo, alright?" 

Jongho nods vigorously, still unable to meet your eyes. "Y-yeah, let's do that," he mumbles. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but you can see the frustration and embarrassment still lingering in his expression. 

But the thing is that suddenly you can't quite focus on your job. You feel the warmth from Jongho's hand on your chest, with only the fabric of his hoodie between you, and you start to feel uneasy. He was good-looking, sure, but you've been in this situation a hundred times before with plenty of other good-looking clients and never really minded it. So why now? As you continue to work, the sensation lingers. You steal a glance at Jongho, noticing the way his eyes are now fixed on the tattoo, his brows slightly furrowed as he looks at how the needle works, and how it deposits the ink into his skin. There's something about his presence that's different, something that stirs feelings you can't quite put into words. You try to push your thoughts aside, focusing on the rhythmic hum of the tattoo machine and the precise movements of your hands. But it's no use. Every time you lean in, every time you brush against his arm or hand, you feel a spark, a weird sensation in your stomach. His scent, the warmth of his body—everything about him seems to draw you in, making it difficult to maintain your professional detachment. In the quiet moments between the buzz of the machine, you find yourself wondering about him. What kind of person is he? What stories lie behind those boba eyes? Curiosity is distracting, pulling your attention away from the task at hand. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your thoughts, but the fluttering in your chest refuses to subside. You can't help but feel a bit frustrated with yourself. This isn't like you. You've always prided yourself on your ability to stay focused and professional, no matter the circumstances. Yet here you are, struggling to keep your mind from wandering, struggling to keep your emotions in check. It's both exhilarating and unsettling, and you can't decide whether you love it or hate it. 

Suddenly Jongho lets out a small whimper, and for a second his hand squeezes your boob. Your eyes widen, and you swallow hard after clearing your throat, trying once again to compose yourself. The warmth of his touch sent electric tingles through your body, making it hard to focus, the sensation in your stomach only getting stronger. If you weren't before, you were definitely turned on now. "Are you alright?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky and betraying the flustered state you were in. 

He looked up at you, his eyes wide with a mix of pain and embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, it's just the pain stung a little bit," he explained quickly, his voice laced with genuine regret. It was clear that he was unaware of his hand's movement, and the unintentional intimacy of the moment seemed to have gone unnoticed by him. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "It's okay," you managed to say, your voice softer as you tried to reassure him. "Just try to relax." You hoped your words would calm him, even though you could barely calm yourself. Jongho nodded, his cheeks flushed as he attempted to regain his composure.

As you continued to work, the air between you seemed charged with an unspoken tension. You couldn't shake the feeling of his touch, and your thoughts kept drifting back to the unexpected moment.  Every glance at Jongho, every accidental brush, seemed to reignite the fluttering in your chest. You took a deep breath, pushing those thoughts aside as best as you could. "Alright, we're almost there," you said, your voice steadying as you neared the completion of the tattoo. "Just hang in there a little longer." Jongho nodded, his focus returning to the tattoo process. He seemed more relaxed now, his earlier embarrassment fading away as he concentrated on the sensation of the needle against his skin. Finally, you finished the last stroke and lifted the machine, taking a step back to admire your work. "All done," you announced with a smile, feeling a mix of relief and satisfaction.  

Jongho looked down at the fresh tattoo, his eyes lighting up with excitement and appreciation. "It looks amazing," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Thank you so much." 

You smiled, feeling a warm rush of pride. "You're welcome. I'm glad you like it." 

You put your tattoo machine down and take off your gloves. You glance at Jongho as you throw the needle and other trash, and you notice how Jongho hesitates before standing up, his movements deliberate and cautious. You didn't pay too much mind, assuming he might just be feeling a bit sore or stiff from sitting in one position for so long. You turned to search for a new pair of gloves and the tattoo bandage, focusing on gathering the necessary supplies to wrap his fresh ink and ensure it was properly protected. As you turned back to face him, you saw him tugging his shirt down with an almost desperate force. It was then that you noticed the distinct outline in his jeans. The sight caused a sudden jolt in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a rush of emotions, a blush creeping in. You reminded yourself to keep things professional, but the unspoken tension in the room was too obvious, and you couldn't ignore the way your own body reacted. Taking a deep breath, you approached Jongho with the bandage, your hands steady even though your heart was racing. 

"Looks like I'll need to wrap this up nice and tight," you say with a teasing smile, your voice carrying a hint of playful suggestion. "We wouldn't want anything to get out of hand." 

Jongho's eyes widen slightly at your words, a faint blush creeping back onto his cheeks. He chuckles nervously, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, definitely wouldn't want that," he replies, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. 

You carefully begin to wrap the tattoo with the dedicated bandage, ensuring it's secure and protected. As you work, you can't help but notice the slight tension in Jongho's body, the way his breathing seems to have quickened just a bit.

The silence between you was getting uncomfortable. Jongho cleared his throat, trying to break the tension. "So, uh," he began, his voice shakier than before. "Do you have any tips for taking care of the tattoo?" His attempt at casual conversation was endearing, and you could tell he was trying to steer the moment back to a more normal footing. 

You nodded, grateful for the chance to focus on something else than the burning feeling in your stomach. "Yes, absolutely," you replied, your voice steadying. "Keep it clean and moisturize it every three to four hours with the cream I'll give you. Avoid soaking it in water and stay out of direct sunlight. I'll give you an aftercare sheet with all the details." 

Jongho listened intently, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of curiosity and lingering embarrassment. "Got it. I'll make sure to follow the instructions," he said, his voice more composed now. As you finished applying the tattoo bandage, the proximity between you felt charged, and you couldn't help but notice the way his breath hitched slightly whenever your fingers brushed against his warm skin.

"If you have any questions or need a touch-up, don't hesitate to contact me," you added, trying to keep the conversation flowing smoothly. 

"Thank you," Jongho replied, his expression softening. "I really appreciate the care and effort you put into this. It means a lot to me." 

You smiled, "It's been a pleasure, Jongho. I'm glad I could help bring your friend's design to life." 

As Jongho gets ready to leave, he gathers his things and glances at you with a shy smile. You can see him hesitating slightly before he gestures toward you saying, "I guess I'll have to come back to get my hoodie."

You chuckle, leaning against the counter with a playful glint in your eyes. "Yeah, looks like you'll have to," you reply with a wink. "Or maybe I could just keep it as a souvenir?" You draw out the words, making sure he knows you're teasing him. 

Jongho laughs, shaking his head. "I don't think I could let you get away with that, this one's my favorite" he teases back, his tone light but his eyes serious. "But I wouldn't mind another visit." The implication hangs in the air, making your heart skip a beat. 

You smile, feeling a warmth in his words that makes your cheeks flush. "Well, the door's always open for you," you say, a hint of anticipation in your voice. The thought of seeing him again fills you with a mix of excitement and nervousness. 

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to muster up the courage to say something more. "Actually, I was wondering if... maybe..." He trails off, his cheeks flushing slightly as he struggles to find the right words. "I mean, would you like to... go out for a—" He stumbles over the words, his voice trembling slightly. 

Before he can finish his sentence, you cut in with a teasing smile, unable to resist the urge to make him squirm a little. You raise an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Are you trying to ask me out on a date?" you tease, your eyes twinkling with amusement. 

He blushes deeper, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess I am," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. The vulnerability in his eyes makes your heart melt. 

"Are you sure you want to ask me out while you have a boner?" you quip, unable to keep a straight face. 

Jongho's eyes widen, and he lets out a nervous laugh. "Hey, you were the one who put your boob in my hand on purpose," he jokes back, his tone light and playful, trying to deflect the embarrassment. 

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. "I promise it wasn't on purpose," you say, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "But hey, if I wanted to, I'd definitely charge extra for that." The playful banter eases the tension between you.

Jongho laughs, the tension easing as he meets your gaze with a playful glint. "Fair enough."

"So, dinner today at 8?" you ask, a hopeful look in your eyes. 

Jongho's eyes light up, and he nods eagerly. "Today at 8," he confirms, his voice filled with excitement. The anticipation in his voice mirrors your own feelings, making your heart beat a little faster. 

You smile warmly at him, and at this point, your cheeks start to hurt "Will you pick me up?" 

"Absolutely," he replies, "I'll see you then." The promise of the evening ahead fills you both with a mix of nerves and excitement. 

As Jongho heads for the door, you can't resist adding one last teasing remark. "Oh, and Jongho," you call out making him turn his head back to you, his hand backing off from the handle of the doors. Your smile at him sweetly, before continuing, your voice playful but with a hint of seriousness. "You better not... you know, take care of yourself before our date. If dinner's a flop, I might need something else to stuff my mouth with." You give him a wink, your tone suggestive but not too forward. 

Jongho blinked a few times before meeting your gaze straight-on, a confident yet mischievous smile finally forming on his lips "Oh, don't worry," he replies, his voice smooth and bold. "I'll make sure to save plenty for you. Just don't be surprised if dessert comes before dinner." He winks back at you, leaving you with a racing heart and a grin you can't wipe off your face. 

[shadowdaddies]

what do you think about reader and nyx being bffs and her having a huge crush on azriel , like nyx and reader have been friends for almost 50 years and she still remembers the first time she saw azriel. At was first it was a silly girl crush but it developed to her having a fat ass crush on him fr and nyx knows this and teases her relentless, azriel overhears this and confronts her. Fluff or smut pls i cannot handle angst🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

well anon, I had planned to go a more playful/smutty route when I started writing this but that was not what the writing gods had in mind for me today. This is FLUFF (and I know you said no angst but I couldn't resist but IT PAYS OFF)

Birthday Wishes

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none, just lots of fluff and a lil angst, not proofread

You grew up in Velaris; your first job was as a teaching assistant at Feyre’s studio. You grew close with Feyre, and she became a mentor to you. 

You babysat Nyx when he was young, and as you both grew older you also grew closer. He was the little brother you never had, and you were an honorary member of their family. You often accompanied Nyx to family dinners, which was comfortable because of how close you were with everyone. You had trained under Nesta’s command with the Valkyries, and often worked with Rhys and Feyre in your duties as an emissary. 

The only one in the IC who didn’t feel like family to you was Azriel. Maybe that was in part because you had a huge crush on him for over fifty years, but he never seemed to pay much interest to you. He was at dinners and events the least of anyone, usually off on a mission, and when he was there you were too nervous to say much to him.

One year, Feyre insisted on hosting your birthday celebration at the River House. Everyone in the family was there, along with some of the Valkyries and your and Nyx’s friends. Everyone except Azriel. When people slowly started leaving the house for the night, you felt tears welling up in your eyes. It shouldn’t have bothered you so much, you weren’t close with Azriel. Why should you care whether or not he’s here? Nevertheless, you found yourself needing to step out for air on the balcony.

Nyx came out and stood next to you by the railing as you two took in the view; he always had a sixth sense for when something was troubling you. “Hey, everything okay?” 

You tried to play it off, “I’m great, Nyx. You know how it is, the birthday blues strike again.” Nyx leveled you with a look that let you know he wasn’t buying your excuse. “Come on, I know when you’re upset. Could it have anything to do with a certain Shadowsinger?”

You couldn’t hide your shock as you looked up at Nyx. “Wh-what are you talking about? I.. I didn’t even notice he wasn’t here,” you sputtered out.

Nyx let out a laugh that had you punching him in the arm. “You asshole, why are you laughing at me when I’m crying?” you asked as your own tears turned to laughter at his infectious playful energy. 

“I hadn’t even mentioned that he wasn’t here. You told on yourself, sis,” Nyx lobbed back at you, and you turned beet red at the realization you’d been caught. “Shut up, it’s not like it’s obvious. You just know because you’re nosey as Hel.” 

Nyx slung his arm around your shoulder as he laughed again, “I think the only person it’s not obvious to is Azriel. Everyone else can see how you look at him.” You sighed, completely embarrassed that everyone apparently knew what you thought was your deepest secret. Nyx noticed your stress at the realization and squeezed your shoulder encouragingly, “it’s fine, sis. I can’t blame you for falling for those dreamy hazel eyes. But if I were you, I’d tell Azriel how you feel. It’s the only way you can move on, good or bad.” You nodded in agreement with him, and Nyx left a kiss on your head before turning around to head back inside. 

You noticed him falter in his movement for just a moment before collecting himself. “Oh hey, Azriel,” Nyx greeted cheerfully before slinking through the door without so much as a glance back at you. Traitor. You slowly turned around, praying to the cauldron that he couldn’t tell you had been crying. 

But you couldn’t have prepared yourself for the sight before you. Azriel stood in the doorway, hair windblown, wide-eyed and cheeks flushed as he panted for air. You took a tentative step towards him and spoke barely above a whisper, “Azriel. What are you doing here?” Azriel seemed taken aback by your question, but explained as he held up a package in his hand. “I flew here as fast as I could, and then I realized I hadn’t picked up your gift from where I had it wrapped and they were closed so I had to find the owner and get her keys and go to the shop and get your gift and then get the keys back and I flew here but I’m sorry it took so long, I messed it all up but I had to make sure I got you this tonight.” 

You were frozen in shock. You didn’t think you’d heard Azriel speak so much or so quickly in his life. He stepped towards you as he finally caught his breath, handing you the package. “Please open it, angel.” You took the package from his hands, unwrapping it shakily as you looked up to see his face filled with anticipation. Opening the box, your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of your favorite book inside. “It’s a first edition, and it’s signed. I know it’s your favorite book, and I searched all over for it. Helion had a copy in the Day Court library. There’s something inside the book as well.” You opened up the front cover to find a letter from the author to you wishing you a happy birthday. You looked up at Azriel through teary eyes, and something snapped inside your chest. You gasped as you felt like you’d been struck by lightning, and you realized. My mate.

Azriel gave you a soft knowing smile as he stepped closer to you. “I heard your and Nyx’s conversation. I had no idea that you felt that way. The bond snapped for me about four months ago, but I didn’t want to pressure you because I didn’t think you felt that way for me. I wanted you to have a special birthday, regardless of whether or not you are interested in accepting the bond.”

You were overwhelmed by joy at Azriel’s confession, your emotions emboldening you to reach up to Azriel’s face and cup his cheek. “This book was the most beautiful and thoughtful gift I’ve ever received, until I learned the cauldron gave me you.” You pushed up on your toes as Azriel leaned down, pulling you in close for a deep, passionate kiss that spoke more than any words could relay.

~~~

You can't help but laugh now as you think about that memory, how at one point in your life the scariest thing to you was to tell that male how you felt about him. The same male you smile at across the table exactly fifty years later as you blow out the candles without a wish, because you couldn't imagine wanting anything more than this.

[candyk0rn]

Hello, I hope you’re having a fantastic day today :) please could I request headcanons of Astarion, Gale and Halsin having a crush on Tav/Reader who is shy and insecure 💙💙

Shy-Bg3

Hello! Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you’re having a great day too!!

Before reading: Gn!reader, shy + insecure reader, Astarion x reader, Halsin x reader, Gale x reader

Also sorry for the wait, I’ve been increasingly busy!!

Astarion:

At first, he finds you almost pathetic

Perhaps it’s his way of not seeing himself within you, knowing he used to be just as fearful and timid

He feels a strong duty to protect you the closer you get to him

At first, he uses you as merely a flesh shield lmao

We all know the story, he uses you for protection, although meek you were always considered a stronger type

And his one rule was to not fall for you: that was his number one rule

But of course that all goes to shit pretty quickly

On the topic of insecurities, he knows all too well the feelings you feel

It’s honestly a plus, having someone that just knows

He’s so stupidly in love with you, for a moment he thinks he’s going mad

He’s never met someone as reserved and soft-spoken as you, he thinks it’s great company

After all, opposites attract, right?

Gale:

Like Astarion, he actually is comforted by your shy and quiet nature

He’d much rather stay home in his tower at Waterdeep, away from society

For that is how he lived for quite some time

I’d say Gale is also rather reserved, only opening up to those he trusts

And it just so happens, he learned to trust you more than anyone

Ever since he told you about the orb that was launched into his chest, the way you insisted upon finding another way to save him

It sent his heart to the skies, I stg

Your shy personality is endearing to him, because if you ever need him to speak up for anything he is so willing

Also, in those moments where you have to interact with someone unknown or unfamiliar, he always offers his hand as comfort

Ugh I love that stupid wizard

Halsin:

I don’t think anyone will get mad at me if I say out of these three

Halsin is the best in the situation

Halsin is the best in most situations let’s be real

He’s the most calm and soothing when it comes to your personality

If you ever ever need to be taken somewhere else, if you’re ever too nervous to be around people

He simply excuses you and him both from whatever conversation or interaction is going on

Something that seems so difficult for you, is so easy for him

And he gladly does it each time

Halsin has a very keen eye, he knows every move you make, every fight of your fingers, every worried flutter of your eyes

He knows when and where to comfort every time

In terms of your insecurity, he’s also extremely helpful on that

He always knows just what to say

The perfect man fr

Thank you for reading!

[ladey]

Random Jinx Headcanons ☁️ (because i’m bored 😚)

!! some these are more in relation to my jinx x reader story. !!

lemme know if you want more ‘when i brush your hair’ hc’s, or just general ones. i’d love to make more as a way to provide u with lore ygwim? 🫶

—🪷

- never learned her lesson and still tries to eat soap to find out if it’ll taste good

- very scatterbrained but can get very focused on her projects, or when she’s in combat

- learned how to play the electric guitar but never actually plays it (esp. since it’s always super loud) (this also might be a controversial take)

- has loved the stars since childhood even though now she doesn’t really talk about them anymore

- has a big fear of ending up alone (no shit☠️)

- used to be shy as a kid but got super extroverted and outgoing

- absolutely made like the whole undercity scared and intimidated by her because of her unhinged and reckless tendencies

- bad with small talk. absolutely hates it because she thinks it’s boring

- never lost her sass. she totally got sassy sometimes as a kid

- gives in to the intrusive thoughts. the ones that tell her to take a bite out of a block of butter or stick a finger in peanut butter

- sneaks out through her window at night

- struggles with sleep but when she does she’s a heavy ass sleeper. most of the time she doesn’t bother putting her air up either and lets her braids sprawl out and get messy

- she says she’d date anyone but she has a very strong preference for girls (FEMS). doesn’t really like guys (or masculine people in general, that’s gotta be her role😼)

- you can always hear her approaching with those big ass boots she wears. but there will be odd times where you literally don’t hear her at all and she scares the soul out of you

- she blasts her music in her room whenever she’s working until someone has to tell her to turn it down

- her bed always has a pile of blankets and pillows but it’s one of the most comfortable places you’ll sit or lay on

- she came across that giant fan room one day when she needed to clear her head and desperately find a place to hide by herself. eventually she showed it to you but you only. it’s not located anywhere near the last drop either

- 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

- used to and still does make little trinkets, most if not all that she doodles on, and gives them as gifts. ranging from cups, to jewelry, to random figurines that she welded together out of scrap metal or something

- she’s a messy eater. she don’t care about what she looks like in public either. she’s a munch fr fr 🙌

- and she’s not too picky, but if someone makes something for dinner that she doesn’t like, she’ll just not eat that night and snack instead or something (so real)

- prefers fruit over vegetables… and interpret that as u like

- gets super competitive when playing games, she’s almost mean. just slap her back to her senses and she’ll apologize 👍 (i do not condone abuse)

[valentine-cafe]

for ba bao fan | fem!reader

you, wandering around the house with a swollen belly. calling his name to ask for food and care and comfort. made me foam on the mouth holy shit, need that to become a shirt fr, continuing that one ask, imagine his lover did actually got pregnant, now months into the pregnancy she became quite clingy at times, especially when he came home late at night, because she knew, she couldn't actually get out that often anymore to join him in the casino when carrying a child, too much risk. so, she just resorts to actually voicing it on their late-night talk-cuddle, “y'know… you should take a rest tomorrow, i’m missing you too much to let you go.. this place doesn't feel like home when you're not around.”

if he actually does? well, as much she'll struggle with her growing stomach, let's just say she's ready to get down on one knee if he hasn't already or rainfall of tears, whole lotta of them

˖⁺. ﹙ the demon-possessed casino owner x afab!fem!reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . I would never leave you my dear !! 🍒 :  casino owner ˖ grim reaper ˖ demon cw : pregnant reader﹙ verse 1311 hàoyǔ. ﹚

your husband stays home to make sure you are doing alright with your pregnancy

of course he’d stay with you! his heart always hurt having to leave you in the day and return at night. he knew he couldn’t keep it up for too long - at some point he would need to be there for you.

casino be damned, the second you said that there was no way that he was leaving you alone ever again. not until you give birth and even then - he’ll wait a few extra months. one of his highers can tend to the casino until he’s back. he’ll simply check in through myrr whenever he can.

you would awake to your lover not beside you. tummy twisting and pregnant hormones making your heart break more than it should.

finding the will to rise out of bed and find your way out of the bedroom - you’ll catch whiff of something in the kitchen. a stir of hope. excitedly your feet carry you down the hallway. your tears doubling at the sight of your boyfriend adding the finishing touches to breakfast.

“now, why the tears?” hàoyǔ ‘s deep croon only makes them fall faster. he senses your next move and in an instant is in front of you so that you do not race over. a gentle hand to your stomach and another cupping your face.

“I-I thought -”

“Sshh,” he murmurs. A cold kiss presses to your forehead and he slowly rubs at your tummy. “Did you really think I’d leave you here after last night? Not leaving any time soon, my darling.”

[snakeautistic]

I love finding characters I can relate (/project onto) within media. There’s something so comforting about seeing yourself on screen. I end up headcanoning most of them to be in-line with my identities (lesbian, wasian, autistic) because they are literally me in my head!!

Anyway here’s a long ass list of my favorite characters and why I head canon them as autistic for fun!! If you have any others you’d like to add I’d love to hear them. (And please note this is just my interpretation, and highly based on my experience with autism. I’m not saying they’re definitely autistic or that all the traits I listed are the dsm-5 criteria or something.)

Princess Bubblgeum from adventure time:

This girl is peak evil scientist autistic. Her intense need for control, the way she carefully observes the citizens she created, an outsider to them, not quite like them… god it’s so perfect. I read her as being somewhat low empathy as well, it’s hard for her to change her perspective to that of others. Plus the fact her brother neddy is a pretty obvious metaphor for higher supports needs autism. I think they of represent how autism runs in the family and appears in all sorts of different ways in different people. They’re sort of two different representations of the spectrum.

Marcy wu from amphibia

I mean this one is just obvious. The biggest nerd of all time. So obsessed with her RPG special interest that she literally sucks her and her friends into a fantasy world. She’s clumsy (just like me fr), very smart but super socially awkward, a little oblivious and naive. She’s terrified of change, especially if it means abandoning the few social bonds she’s been able to make. I honestly find it hard to believe this wasn’t intentional.

Entrapta from she-ra

Another pretty overt example. I do have some issues with how she was portrayed in the show- (keeping her on a leash was weird.) but overall I really love her. She understands her tech, not people, and it can cause her to come into conflict with other characters. Their treatment of her makes me sad at times, but it’s realistic. I also love some of her other quirks, her love of tiny food, her exitable demeanor, ect.

Pearl from Steven Universe

Peridot is the more obvious example of an autistic character in SU, and while I agree she’s coded that way, I personally resonate more with Pearl. She is not very socially aware, and bothered by disruptions to her routine/ broader life changes. She doesn’t like to break rules (despite being a literal rebel lol.) I find it interesting how she seems to have the poorest understanding of life on earth out of the gems, despite having lived here for thousands of years. She is graceful, but has an almost sort of awkward gangly-ness to her that I relate to. Her neuroticism is also very similar to how my anxiety disorder presents.

Pearl has a tendency to infodump, without realizing those around her are uninterested. Even her relationship with Rose struck a chord with me. The hopeless devotion to her, the way she followed along at her side. It’s how many of my friendships have been. Obvious it’s not exactly the same considering Pearl having originally been her servant, but while not being an explicitly autistic trait, that sort of clingy, starstruck relationship is something autistic people are prone to developing. She does little hand stims at times too that I love to see.

Poison Ivy (specifically the version in the Harley Quinn animated show)

I’m surprised I haven’t seen more people mention poison Ivy. Fiercely intelligent and deeply introverted, she isolates herself from all people, and only connects with and understands her plants. (Which her deep affinity for can definitely be read as a special interest.) She very overtly has trouble forming relationships with others.

She’s blunt, socially awkward and a loner, has something of a flat effect and a monotone voice. Those around her initially read her as cold and impersonable.Her struggle with social anxiety as well as intense fear of failure/ low self esteem is also very relatable to me. She also often struggles to express/understand her feelings and emotions. Her radical political ideas and the fact that she’s literally an ecoterrorist paints her as having a very strong sense of justice and a somewhat black and white worldview. (Me)

Finally, her relationship with Harley just SCREAMS neurodivergent solidarity. Harley Quinn is (I think canonically) adhd, and they’re both outsiders in the world that found each other and just… get each other. She’s Ivy’s closest and only friend and amazing girlfriend and god it’s all so perfect.

They remind me a lot of the relationship I have with my best friend with adhd except theirs is gayer.

[pastanest]

Spencer Reid x she/her!reader

A/N: never thought I’d see the day where I wrote for Spencer Reid again, but this mf has been livin it up rent free fr

False Alarm

It had started as nothing more than a one-off joke between yourself and Derek Morgan. Or rather, a joke made by Derek Morgan in which you were the punchline. You had only been part of the team for around 3 months, but you had gelled with each and every member so well that none could remember what their dynamic had been like prior to you, save for the only member of the team that struggled to forget almost anything. Everyone was comfortable with you, so comfortable in fact that when the team happened to be in the office for a fire alarm test, Derek Morgan took it upon himself to sprint straight for you, near enough tackle you, fling you over his shoulder and bolt out of the building with you in a fireman’s lift, everyone laughing at the silliness of it while you playfully smacked his back. 

It had been intended as just a one-off, you were certain of it, but apparently, it was simply too funny to Derek for him to not incorporate the ridiculous gesture into any and every situation possible. It didn’t matter who was around, if you were within arm’s reach and the team had to go to another room, he would swing you over his shoulder and take you there. It was all in good fun, despite the mock-anger that you gave him whenever he did pick you up, and the team had become so used to the act that they all but rolled their eyes with fond smiles when it occurred on cue. Everyone, you noticed, save for the only member of the team that didn’t seem to understand the humour behind the joke, who was - by no coincidence - your absolute favourite person in the entire world. 

“Does it bother you, when Derek…picks you up?” Doctor Spencer Reid had essentially materialized at your side three days ago as you prepared your morning coffee, so desperate for an answer to his question that he had not been able to prioritize greeting you first.

This was unusual, particularly for him when in conversation with you, given the fondness you share for each other and his dutiful care to always treat you with the utmost politeness. No matter the case, the time of day or how either of you are feeling, the gentleness with which you have always spoken to each other is never forgotten.

“Uh, no, not at all, why?” You returned the question, touched by his concern for your feelings but confused by the cause for such concern.

Ever since your first day, Spencer has had a soft spot for you that was blindingly obvious to absolutely everyone, except for you. To you, that was simply the way he was; you were not to know he treated other women around his age any differently, so you were completely unaware of just how highly he regarded you. There were so many instances where he had shown you, so obviously, how much he cared for you, but neither of you dared address a single one. Not the flight home from your first case, when you had been the quietest you had been all day and he had sat beside you on the jet, watching as silent, slow tears rolled down your cheeks and despite his usual total opposition to physical contact of such a degree, he found himself placing a blanket over the two of you and taking the opportunity to offer his hand beneath the soft fabric, which you took without a word. Not the one time you had called in sick and the moment the team landed home from that case without you, Spencer arrived at your door with a bouquet of flowers, every flavor of soup he could find, and several different types of medicine to relieve you of your symptoms. Not the countless times he had reminded you of things you had forgotten, or every little thing he had prioritized in remembering about you - not that he needed to prioritize anything when it came to his memory - to surprise you with little gifts and trivia about the things he knew you loved. While you never seemed to stop thanking him for the person he was, the two of you found it far too terrifying to ever address what his gestures could mean. 

Spencer shrugged, avoiding your eyes and fixing his gaze on the coffee machine. “No reason.”

At that, you had smiled, turning to face him to profile him as best you could. “Doctor Reid, I don’t think you’ve ever done or said anything for ‘no reason’ in all your life.”

Spencer couldn’t hide the small smile that appeared on his face at your words, the kindness that you never failed to radiate in every conversation with him. “I was just…worried that, perhaps, while everyone had enjoyed the joke, nobody had asked whether you were okay with it, that was all.”

You held his gaze, both bringing your mugs of coffee to your lips in unison and chuckling lightly at the synchronized motion. “Thank you, Spencer, that’s very kind. I don’t mind it at all, honestly, it’s quite nice to be picked up - as long as I trust the person that’s doing it, you’ll hear no complaints from me!”

Spencer seemed to carefully consider this and elected to answer with no more than a nod and a thoughtful smile, before taking his leave and returning to his desk. Leaving you in the bewildered, dazed wake of the wonder, the enigma that is Doctor Spencer Reid.

In the days that have passed since, you have been playing that conversation over and over in your head, trying to piece together what was going on in the mind of your favorite genius. Though you felt you had spent the majority of your time doing that since joining the team, having been so fascinated by the curious person he was and the seemingly impossible things he knew, the past three days have particularly plagued you. It hasn’t helped that on several occasions, you have caught him glancing over at you with the same smile on his face he had given you by the coffee machine. Every time you’ve caught him, he’s been quick to look away from you, but that same smile has lingered and grown while he’s busied himself with something else, mind clearly still occupied by whatever he thinks when he looks over at you. It has been maddening, in all honesty.

Strolling into the office, you are greeted by the sight of the very genius that has been living rent free in your brain since the day you met, standing at your desk. The bright smile that takes over your face is instinctual and the one he returns to you is the same, the invisible tether that binds you to each other tugging at the distance between you until you reach your desk to start digging through your bag. 

“Good morning Spencer, everything alright?” You ask, too sincerely pleased by the sight of him to be at all concerned by him seemingly waiting for you at your desk before you’ve even arrived for the day.

 “Good morning (Y/N)! Everything is perfectly alright, thank you, why do you ask?” He fires the question back at you, excitement too obvious in his tone to not raise your suspicions.

This is exacerbated by the expressions on the faces of the rest of the team as they file into the office, their conversations abruptly silencing as they stop in the doorway, all of them watching your interaction with eager eyes.

Looking between them and Spencer, you frown in confusion. “What’s going on?”

If you were to compare the genius to any fictional character in this moment, you would be unable to choose any other than the Cheshire Cat, with the grin he’s sporting. “Going on? Nothing is ‘going on’, as far as I’m aware. I do have a question for you, though, now that you mention it.”

Dropping your bag on your desk, you turn to face him, giving him your full attention. “Okay, go ahead.”

You have never seen Spencer Reid quite so giddy in your life. “Do you trust me?”

Blinking rapidly up at him, your frown returns. “Of course, with my life, why wouldn’t I?”

Spencer smiles down at you, glancing over your shoulder at the team. “I had really hoped that would be your answer.” He gives them a thumbs up. “Morgan?”

Following his gaze, you watch Derek chuckle. “All yours, kid.” With that, he strolls over to the fire alarm and hits it, hard. 

As the alarm blares, you hurry to hold your ears with your hands, but it seems someone else has plans for you being in their own hands. Before you have time to process what exactly is going on, Doctor Spencer Reid has swung you up in his arms, not in a fireman’s lift, but bridal style. Completely disorientated, you struggle to catch up with what is unfolding around you, all the while Spencer starts carrying you out of the building, the rest of the team laughing and holding the doors open for you as you pass through them. 

Finally finding the confidence to look up at Spencer’s face, you are not at all prepared for the look in his eyes, already waiting for yours to meet his. 

“You..orchestrated a fire drill?” You manage to say as the two of you exit the building into the parking lot, free of the deafening alarm at last.

Without placing you down on the ground, Spencer Reid stares into your eyes with the softest smile you have ever seen. “For the chance to hold you, it was the easiest thing in the world to arrange.”

Seeing stars with a bewildered grin plastered on your face, you call out. “Derek?”

From somewhere behind Spencer, your friend and colleague replies. “What’s up, lovebirds?”

Without breaking eye contact, you call over Spencer’s shoulder. 

“With regret, in the event of an actual fire or any reason for a lift to be required, you are fired from the position of first in line and will, please, find Doctor Spencer Reid as quickly as possible to do the job.”

[regretisstoredintheme]

Turtle Blush + Hand-holding

A/n: more brainrot?? More brainrot. I love making headcanons on different ways characters blush, it’s my favorite thing ok???? And the turtles are my hyperfixation at the moment… I just can’t stop thinking abt how they would hold your hand bc they’ve got 3 fingers instead of 5!!! there are complications!!!!! Also I wanted to draw blushy turtles so yeah.

— headcanons under the cut —

BLUSH!!

Most to least amount:

Raph

Donnie

Leo

Mikey

—

Raph:

How he blushes

This boy will sometimes go full face red, but most of the time it’s all in his cheeks. They go rosy red all the time and his shoulders will blush too. IK IT LOOKS LIKE I PUT SOME ON HIS PLASTRON BUT I DIDN’T REALLY MEAN TO??? 😭😭 when he blushes he absolutely can not look you in the eye, he’s mumbling, stuttering, doing calculations of how to get out of the situation, (kinda like he did when locking up Ms. cuddles) and will start to back up if you get closer. Yk his lil nervous laugh? His lil “hAhAAHH..”? That’s his go-to reaction if you say anything about his actions (which you’re bound to) or if you brush your hand on his arm.

Why he blushes

It’s pretty easy to get Raph to blush, he just feels so lucky to be with you and the surprise that you love him too doesn’t fade too fast through your relationship. In like the first 6 months he’s like this, so when you give him a kiss on the cheek he’s an absolute MESS. And Mind Raph makes sure he knows it, feeling horribly embarrassed about his stuttering. This also goes on for a while before that insecurity calms down, allowing him to feel more comfortable in his own shell.

When he’s more comfy, even then he’s easy to fluster. If you catch him staring at you, he’s already embarrassed. He’s looking away with a slight blush, avoiding you— but if your gaze is steady, still staring at him - now he’s real flustered. Laugh playfully and he just might explode.

He likes to cradle you in his arms, he’s always wanted to be a protector and you put him at peace. He feels pure serenity when you’re near, and he adores cuddles. However, when you ask him for snuggles— he’s burning up, stammering through trying to say “I’d love to” , “my pleasure” , and “yes please” at the same time. “My yes… eh— pleased to— wait- yes the please.. my love to!! Oh god..” (he’s face palming fr.) Although, when you finally get situated— with his racing heart, he’s wide awake. He isn’t going to sleep until he can stop focusing on your face snuggling into his plastron, acting as a ball of warm sunshine to drown out his sleepiness.

Spoiler Alert: he pretty much just waits for you to fall asleep first.

—

Donnie:

How he blushes

Donnie feels like the type to have a nose blush— and also I dunno why but I could see his shell blushing??? Even if only at the edges, It just seems so canon to me. His fingers go pink when he’s nervous, but those aren’t exactly a giveaway because they also freeze when he’s cold. He feels his mouth go dry when he blushes, thats how he knows he’s turning red, so he starts fiddling with the edge of his purple mask, trying to act natural while he pulls it down further over his blushing snout.

In this state, he’s really overstimulated, even the slightest chair creek would prick his nerves, so if you give him any attempt at physical contact he’s either short circuiting or smacking you away, unable to process the feeling. (It’s mostly the latter) ESPECIALLY IF ITS A NOSE KISS!!! He usually melts into your hands, but if he’s overstimmed, he will not hesitate to ATTACC.

He apologizes after, embarrassed that he bat you away.

Why he blushes

Easy, you outsmarted him. He’ll be throwing on his emotionally unavailable bad boy image, strutting his stuff, bantering with you — and then you will throw in a flirty comment that makes him have to just process for a minute. Usually he can bounce back, but if it’s something reaally flirty, then he’s just like 😀 … FOR LIKE 5 MINUTES HFJDHDJEB GIVE HIM A SECOND HE’LL FIND A COMEBACK

After he does so, he gives a small smirk, kinda proud that you were able to stun THE Donatello, smartest, bravest, most courageous turtle of all time— if only momentarily. “You won for once..” he marvels, “huh— I’m impressed.”

Also you doing something really cute, like doing an equation wrong but looking at him with absolute glee at getting through it— waiting for his approval. he is LOSING. HIS. M I N D. He’s trying not to squeal because “LOOK AT MY PARTNER. LOOK. LOOK LOOK LOOK LOOK AAAAAA OH MY GOD” but the last thing he wants to do is flaunt the way Leo of all people does— he’s more civil than that. (Imagine how a badass villain shows off their partner.) if anyone says anything about “pff what an idiot” when you’re doing something he thinks is absolutely adorable— he is pulling out his disposal unit immediately. He considers it the highest offense when someone insults his intelligence, so the same goes for his partner.

—

Leo:

How he blushes

Leo doesn’t really blush in his face, no— the red marks on his face will occasionally glow with heat, but the real place he blushes is his neck. It goes beet red and he’s trying to cover it up because he’s embarrassed. Not only does he blush, but his hands get real clammy, and he’s constantly trying to pretend they’re not. He WILL avoid holding your hand if you’ve made him flustered. if you’re insistent on it, he’s wiping his hands on a shirt he’s wearing or tries to play it off that he was exercising.

Why he blushes

It is really hard to fluster THE Neon Leon. He may melt into your warm hands or blush a little when you’re being cute— he’s definitely capable of being soft, HOWEVER!!! As someone who is so bent on keeping up a carefree persona, it would take a lot to get under his skin. Mikey says so himself in the Lair Games, “nothing gets to Leo.”

He panics when a one-liner doesn’t work. He’ll make a few more with complete confidence, but If you don’t like his flirting, he’s shifting on his feet, rubbing his neck, and slowly backing himself up into a corner. He has a similar reaction when you catch him in a lie, he panics— but he brushes it off with somewhat ease. You’d have to try really hard to get him flustered. Such as, well— He likes the little things about people, because he likes to figure people out, and he’s got a soft spot for you, so say… a blue flower in your hair, formal wear, having that edge of confidence, staying in close proximity while holding onto his arm and gently sprinkling in praise to the conversation…

His brain is frying, slowly but surely!! Be prepared for a jumpy and stuttering Leo.

—

Mikey:

How he blushes

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t think Mikey would visibly blush. Sure he gets that lil buzz in his cheeks and they feel warm when he’s flattered— but they don’t go red. Out of all his brothers, since he’s the smallest, I feel like he’s the most cold-blooded. and due to this, he doesn’t have much blood rush to his face, and he’s got the COLDEST FUCKING HANDS YOU EVER DID SEE. How those hands threw a skyscraper we will never know— but they are only warm when he’s cooking something bc of the heat from the oven.

(SIDE NOTE— HE NEVER??? BURNS HIMSELF??? Doesn’t matter if he scrapes the side of the hot ass cookie sheet he’ll just go “ow?” Check it, and be like “we’re good :)” DRAXUM MADE THEM FOR WAR AND HE’S OVER HERE LIKE “hehe I almost burned myself oopsie”)

Why he blushes:

I’m sorry sweetie, but you can’t fluster Mikey. The most you will get is flattery, and he feigns shyness because he’s a lil shit. He will unabashedly laugh and giggle when you do something cute and is the most clingy lil shit to ever exist. He will rant about all the reasons he loves you for hours, just because he can’t hold in the excitement. If you get embarrassed by it, that’s just a bonus for him!! He’s cooing over you and hugging you tight, swaying back and forth gently.

You’re beginning to wonder if he can feel embarrassment at all— you’ve tried everything. He’s just happy to be with you no matter what, and you are the only thing that could make him sit still for more than 5 minutes. So no, sorry, Mikey doesn’t get flustered ♡

The only way he would actually get flustered is if you lied about something to make him look stupid. Then he’s tearing up, betrayal in his eyes as he tries to explain in a panic. But you would never do that to him, right? .. right?

—

Hand holding!!

Coldest to warmest hands:

Mikey

Leo

Donnie

Raph

—

Raphie:

Idc how big you think your hands are, Raph’s hands ENGULF yours. If you hold onto just one finger he will probably combust on the spot. He just thinks it’s so sweet!! Will probably baby you if you do that. His hands are a gentle lukewarm, but don’t seem to drop colder. It’s really nice during the summer months since neither of you have to worry about being all hot and sweaty. He squeezes your hand when he’s nervous, if you pet his knuckles he will melt into your grasp once more. IF YOUVE GOT FRECKLES/BIRTHMARKS ON YOUR HANDS, HE WILL KISS THEM!!!! THAT IS A THREAT!!!! He does it because he thinks they’re pretty— If you get all blushy then he’s backing up, a familiar rose dusting his cheeks. He didn’t realize it was a big deal, he was just appreciating them!!

He holds your hand often, it lets him know you’re safe and that he doesn’t have to worry as much. As someone with horrible object permanence, holding your hand is a great way for him to know where you are— especially since he feels ‘too big’ and doesn’t want to bump into you. He worries about his spikes, so when he knows you’re right by his side, he can relax a little. If you’re in a crowd, he does the mom thing where he holds your hand so you don’t get lost— losing sight of you kicks off his fear of being alone, so there is no way he is letting you get lost in the crowd.

—

Dondon:

Donnie isn’t a fan of hand holding. He’ll take a hug and will hold you in his lap but he doesn’t usually find himself with his hand in yours. It’s quite overstimulating at times, so when he does, it’s mostly because he’s trying to guide you somewhere or apologize for something. He gently grasps your wrist, his thumb sometimes rubbing in small circles.

Most of the reason he doesn’t hold your hand dead-on is because of the temperature difference. If your hands are warm he doesn’t like the sweat and if your hands are cold— well he’s cold blooded of course he wouldn’t like it 😭😭 Your wrist is the perfect temp in his opinion, and nothing will stop him from taking advantage of that. (ESPECIALLY IF YOUR LOVE LANGUAGE IS PHYSICAL TOUCH!!! He does it to tell you he loves you, even if he can’t say it aloud.) he rarely holds your hand unprompted, unless he did something stupid or was hyperfixating for so long that you got bored and left his lab. When you leave he can tell, getting upset that he can’t feel your presence anymore. “Dove?” He’ll turn in his chair, trudging out of his room at realizing you disappeared. He grabs your wrist gently, his head on your shoulder as he sulks— silently begging you to return.

—

Mikester:

It doesn’t matter how he does it, he’s intertwining his fingers with yours. He doesn’t care if it feels uncomfortable, but if you do, he just gently cups your hand with his. Randomly when holding your hand he’ll pulse his grip in little patterns— sometimes it’s to the song in his head, other times it’s just on the fly. If you copy his rhythm, you’ll quickly find yourself in a memory game where you have to match the beat— the terrapin slowly making it harder to remember. Every time you pass a ‘level’, he gives you a quick peck on the cheek!

He loves to hold your hand, no matter how cold yours are, his is always colder— so he adores the warmth!! If you complain about his cold hands, he’s giving a mischievous smirk, and suddenly you find yourself constantly defending from his devilish torment. You can’t escape him now, every time you go up to him for a hug or snuggle, his cold hands sneak up to your neck, freezing you instantly. He laughs like a little boy with his first balloon every time it happens, apologizing sweetly before going to freeze you again. HE HAS A KILLER DEATH GRIP, DON’T TELL ME HE DOESN‘T. If you try to let go of his hand he grabs it back and looks at you with an evil cheeky smile, whatever you had to do with that hand you’ll just have to do while he’s holding it.

—

Leoser:

May or may not have gotten some inspiration from @pianocat939 BUT ANYWAYSSSS

Leo likes to pet your knuckles when he holds your hand, as well as give it a chaste kiss whenever he feels like it. He definitely does the prince thing where he gets on one knee, it makes him feel so gentlemanly and if you laugh that is a huge bonus. He is more of a hug-person, wanting to be close to you at all times, but he will hold your hand a lot more often if you don’t like PDA. HE DEFINITELY SWINGS HIS ARMS WHILE YOU HOLD HANDS DON’T TELL ME HE DOESN’T.

He splits your four fingers in half when he holds your hand, mostly so it’s more comfortable for the both of you. He whines if you let go of his hand, even if it’s something small like an itch on your face. He pretends his hand is floating away when you let it go, chuckling if you panic and grab it back/being dramatic and holding a ‘funeral’ for his hand if you let it ‘die’. His hands get calloused from holding his sword all day, but he does manicure them, so texture depends whether he’s done them recently. He thinks your hands are the softest thing ever, and constantly asks for your ‘routine.’ HE WILL PAINT YOUR NAILS!!! refuses to paint them anything but shades of blue, saying you’ll have to find someone else if you want to betray him anything different.

—

A/N: THIS . THIS IS THE REASON I HAVE BEEN SO HELD BACK WITH REQUESTS. THIS MF!!!!!! >:((((

Nah I’m just playing I loved writing it and I promise I’ll get back on track now ♡

—